


Modern Gentleman's Armour

by sanguisuga



Series: sang's AU & crack collection [2]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, But they figure it out, Crack Crossover, Daddy Kink, First Time, Greggsy, Harry is a sappy romantic, Hartcroft, Light Angst, M/M, Mycroft is a prick, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Porn, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Snark, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A BBC Sherlock/Kingsman AU Crossover, focused mostly on Mycroft Holmes. Because - well, we all know that he's the man behind the whole organisation, don't we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft offers to get Greg a princely gift indeed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stumbling into a new foray, as if I don't have enough nonsense on my plate. But of course I went and saw Kingsman a couple times, and we all know that Mycroft was tailor-made for that little world, so here we are.
> 
> Very very interested to know what my peeps think, even if there isn't a lot here just yet.

"Bloody hell, Mr. Holmes. Are you sure about this?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade. I assure you, I am always sure." Mycroft leant back in his seat and turned slightly, looking the silver-haired DI over carefully. "Throughout our association, you have never hesitated to intervene with my brother whenever I have deemed it necessary, and although I have been grateful for each and every occasion, I have never once shown this gratitude to you. I would very much like to make amends, if I may."

Mycroft waited until the door opened and then stepped out of the car, hooking the handle of his umbrella over his arm as he straightened his suit jacket. Greg followed and stood on the pavement, staring up at the shop window. "Kingsman? I'm not a Savile Row regular, obviously, but I've never heard of this one."

"Mr. Lestrade, I would never steer you wrong. These are quite definitely the best tailors in the business, and have been so for a very long time." He made a grand gesture at himself, twirling the handle of his umbrella gently. "Would you disagree?"

Gregory's deep brown eyes twinkled appreciatively as they swept over his form. "No, sir. No, I would not." He made a perfunctory slap at his rumpled navy trousers, grimacing slightly. "Lead on, and I hope you'll be able to keep them from chucking my vagrant arse right back out onto the street."

"Oh, they would have to get past me first, Mr. Lestrade." The eldest and far more intimidating of the Holmes brothers twinkled right back at him, and Greg found his breath catching in his lungs briefly.

"Right... While we're at it, why not just call me by my name, sir? We have known each other for a few years now, after all."

"Agreed." He pursed thin but surprisingly intriguing lips and inclined his head elegantly. "Gregory. And please do call me Mycroft."

Greg grinned slowly. "Haven't heard 'Gregory' from anyone since Grand-mère passed." Mycroft's eyebrows shot up and he hastily took in breath, but Greg stopped him with a quick shake of his silver head. "No need. It was years ago, and I quite like the way it sounds rolling off your tongue." He gave him a cheeky little nod in return. "Mycroft."

"Quite." Mycroft was able to hide his embarrassing shiver of delight as Gregory turned back to the shopfront. His name, coming from that mouth, that gentle but pleasantly rough voice - oh dear. He cleared his throat and led the way, his feet light and quick on the stone steps.

The man behind the counter smiled politely as they entered, warming slightly when he saw who it was. "Ah. Mr. Holmes, sir. Lovely to see you."

"Andrew. Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed. We recently acquired a new shipment from Milan, and if you would forgive my forwardness, sir... Well, when I saw it, I thought of you before any of my other loyal customers. Would you care to take a look?"

Mycroft twiddled his umbrella and smiled graciously. "You intrigue me. Yes, I would. But the purpose for this visit is to have my - colleague - fitted for a new suit." He turned back to Gregory, who was running his fingers over the bolts of cloth on display, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Mycroft. You really, really don't have to. This is - it's far more than I deserve. Just this bit of fabric probably costs more than my annual pay! I just can't - I can't accept something like this, I'd do something stupid and ruin it and it would be thousands of pounds up in smoke. I just can't."

"Gregory. You have saved my little brother's sanity on numerous occasions, not to mention his life on several others. The toll that loss would have taken on me is worth fifty bespoke suits, no matter the cost. As I said in the car, this is the very least that I can do."

There was a quiet clearing of a genteel throat, and Greg turned abruptly to find the tailor, Andrew, looking him up and down carefully. "I do believe that material under your hand would suit Sir very well. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Holmes?"

Greg pulled his hand away from the deep charcoal grey fabric as though it had scorched him, but found himself leaning down to take a closer look. There was a subtle shimmer to it, a fine silver thread woven into the material. He looked up at the two men flanking him with a hint of suspicion. "That's not real silver, is it?" The look that they cast at each other was not at all reassuring to the Detective Inspector, and he straightened up with a mighty frown on his face. "Good God. I can't."

"Gregory. You can and you will." Mycroft turned a decidedly evil smirk on him and even let out a distinguished snort of laughter as the silver-haired man shrank away from him slightly. "Don't think that I couldn't compel you if necessary."

Andrew tutted quietly. "It is exceedingly difficult to measure an unconscious body, sir. If you would?" He graciously indicated a fitting room off to the right, an attendant waiting at the doorway with tape measure in hand. "This is Stuart." The young man smiled as Greg approached, and they shook hands under Andrew's appraising stare. "You and he are about to become very familiar, sir." Stuart's smile sharpened slightly, and Greg jumped as Mycroft thumped the tip of his umbrella on the floor. "All above-board, Mr. Holmes. We are strictly professional, after all."

"I am well aware, Andrew." Greg turned in astonishment to find Mycroft hovering close, a light tinge of pink on his cheeks as he glared at the dark-haired attendant. He swiftly stepped away, inclining his head toward the room. "Go on, Gregory." He turned away dismissively, casting one more warning look at Stuart. "Andrew, perhaps you would be so kind as to show me that shipment you mentioned."

Greg exchanged a look with his attendant and sighed quietly before ducking into the room, already working his tie loose. He swiftly stripped down to nothing but his pants, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as Stuart wordlessly berated him for his distinct lack of a vest. He huffed with irritation and glared ineffectually at the upraised brow and snooty turn of lip, finally sucking up what remained of his pride. "Din't have any clean ones this morning." Greg quirked a small grin at the man as he looked up. "Surprised I had clean pants, to be perfectly honest with you."

Something in the attendant's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Ah, well. I have no doubt that Mr. Holmes will ensure that's all taken care of, sir."

Greg groaned audibly. "Fuck's sake. It was just supposed to be a suit, not an entire wardrobe..." He looked at Stuart's vaguely amused expression and sighed resignedly. "Fine. Whatever. Go on, then. Torture me."

"Just a few measurements, sir." The tailor set about Greg's person with swift but economical movements, pausing now and again to scribble some notations on a small tablet. Greg swallowed audibly as Stuart knelt and began to run his tape up the inside of his leg. He tried not to react, he really did, but the man was rather handsome, albeit a bit younger than he usually allowed himself to even think about fancying. It had just been such a very long time since he'd had anyone on their knees in front of him or touching him anywhere near - there.

Greg sucked in a breath as the attendant coughed discreetly. "Ah, yes. Perhaps a bit of extra room in the gusset, then."

"Oh fucking hell I might as well lie down and die right here."

Stuart smirked as he rose to his feet, holding out Greg's shirt for him to slip back on. "No need for dramatics, sir. This is not the first time I have encountered such a phenomena, as it tends to be a rather involuntary reaction to the - ah - situation we find ourselves in." He once again cleared his throat with a genteel air. "It is perhaps the first time that I have seen such an - impressive - reaction, however. I would consider myself flattered if I believed that I had anything to do with it."

Greg paused in zipping himself up, doing his damnedest to wrestle a certain nuisance back into submission as discreetly as possible. He looked up suddenly as the attendant's voice took on a breathy, uncertain tone. Without thinking on it too hard, he grinned and said, "Believe it." The spark that lit up in Stuart's clear hazel eyes made Greg's cheeks warm slightly, but whatever might have been was interrupted with a decisive knock on the door. It opened just as the younger man helped to get Greg's suit jacket settled on his shoulders, dusting him off perfunctorily.

Andrew looked them both over with a tiny air of suspicion, but finding nothing overtly out of place, he simply waved them out. He took the attendant aside for a moment, holding a whispered conference with pointed glances over Greg's body, and he sighed again, knowing instinctively that they were discussing his appalling lack of undergarments. Hell, by the time this was all done he'd no doubt be buried in mounds of posh fabric with nary a loose-fitting comfy garment in sight. He strode over to the main table where Mycroft was waiting for him, his umbrella tucked up in the crook of his elbow, his posture as straight and unyielding as ever.

"Gregory. I do hope that it was not too arduous a trial."

Greg smirked slightly as Mycroft's cool grey eyes darted over to the attendant and back to him, realising that his cheeks were still a bit warm. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged lightly. "I survived. And I may have made a new friend." His smile grew as he confirmed the truth of it, pulling a small scrap of paper from his trouser pocket. It had a phone number and a small scribbled, _"S"_ on it and nothing more. Greg fiddled with it as he tossed another glance at Stuart, pleased to see that he was blushing faintly as he spoke with his employer.

Suddenly the little piece of paper was plucked from his fingers and Greg made a grab for it without thinking, his hand closing around Mycroft's firmly. He stared up into a face that was twisted with distaste. "Surely you can do better, Detective Inspector."

Greg growled low, taking nothing but delight in the way Mycroft's eyes widened in shock. "You give that back. I haven't pulled in ages and what does it matter to you anyway? Who better for a bit of mindless fun than a posh shop-boy?" He scoffed quietly. "Powerful man like you, you've probably got a bevy of sweet little arses to choose from. This one's mine."

He felt something in his stomach swoop uncomfortably as Mycroft's eyes dropped from his face, an indefinable emotion sweeping over his features and away again in a split second. "That was rather rude of me. I do apologise." He handed the scrap of paper back and watched coldly as it was securely tucked away again. "You're quite right. It's your life, and it matters to me not at all."

Greg hesitated, something in him wanting to reach out to the man that he had come to think of as a sort of a friend over the past five years. He started to lift his hand, but there was a noise from the opposite side of the room, and they both turned to see two men emerging from another fitting room. Well, a man and a boy, really. He must have been about twenty or so to the man's fifty, and even if he was obnoxiously dressed like some random pubcrawler, he was surprisingly clean-cut and rather handsome. The man could have been a ringer for Mycroft himself, as they were both wearing the same suit, albeit in different materials. He was perhaps just as tall, if not slightly more so, and a bit broader in the shoulders, but Greg could feel his mouth drop open as he realised that he was carrying a carbon copy of his companion's umbrella.

"There's _more_ of you?" Mycroft turned slightly and rolled his eyes, but Greg was pleased to see the tiniest quirk of a smile on his lips. He stepped away as the two men rounded on each other, the hair on the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. The tension that was radiating off of them was almost impossible to pin down - it was either fierce enmity, or stark lust. Either way, he found himself squirming internally as the power of it rolled over him and through him. The boy's eyes caught his and it was apparent that he was feeling it too, but that he was having a harder time making sense of it. He shook himself and went to him, holding out his hand. "Greg Lestrade."

The boy shook absentmindedly, his eyes still bouncing between Mycroft and the stranger. "Eggsy - uh, Gary Unwin."

"Pleased to meet you, lad. Any idea what all this is about, then?" The boy turned bewildered green eyes on him and shook his head decisively. "Hmph. Guess it's up to me, then." He took the two steps required to insinuate himself between the men that were apparently locked in a staring contest and abruptly stuck out his hand. "Greg Lestrade. Scotland Yard. And you are...?"

The man blinked rapidly and seemed to come back to himself, shifting his hold on his umbrella to clasp Greg's hand in his own. "Harry Hart." His eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on his face, and Greg had the sudden sensation that he was a small furry rodent facing down a hawk. Then there was a comforting warmth close to his back, and he looked to the side to catch Mycroft watching Harry's hand on his own quite intently. Okay, so he was a helpless field mouse stuck motionless in between two birds of prey busily engaged in some sort of stand-off. Fucking brilliant.  

Mycroft cleared his throat quietly. "I apologise, Gregory. Harold and I knew each other quite a few years ago. I was merely surprised to find him here, and with a new...?"

"Valet."

"Ah." There was something wary but sad in Mycroft's voice, and Greg looked to him in surprise. Harry's eyes once more focused on his face and Mycroft nodded slightly. "Mr. Lestrade is a colleague of my brother's. I offered to purchase a suit for him as recompense for all of his hard work in keeping Sherlock's nose quite clean."

"Not an easy task. I commend you, sir."

"Uh, thanks. Look, I..."  

"Yes, of course." Mycroft abruptly clapped a hand on Greg's shoulder and steered him toward the door, reaching out to tug on the lad's arm as he passed him. "Do feel free to use the car, George will of course take you wherever you'd like to go. I believe that Harold and I have some things to catch up on, if you don't mind."

Greg and Eggsy suddenly found themselves on the top step outside the shop door, the quiet click of the lock signalling that their company was clearly not necessary any longer. They looked to each other in surprise and both immediately crowded up against the glass, shading their faces and trying to see in. Harry's head was bowed and Mycroft was clasping his upper arm in a firm grip, but then they saw nothing more as Stuart pulled the shade down, offering a saucy wink to Greg along the way.

Eggsy tapped Greg on the shoulder and nodded toward the car waiting at the kerb. "C'mon then, mate. Ya interested in a pint or two?"

Greg blinked at him. "Gasping for one."

"I'll treat, then. Let's go to mine. In't as fancy as this, but at this hour it should be relatively quiet, and maybe we can get to know one another a bit."

Greg blinked again and led the way to the car, nodding at George as the lad told him where to go. They didn't speak as the car carried them off, barely even glancing at each other, as they were both clearly processing what they had seen. Greg waited for the door to open as they came to a halt, nodding at George politely. He'd had occasion to use Mycroft's transportation from time to time, and although each time had felt very, very odd, he was slowly getting used to it. He found George to be a pleasant enough individual, if a bit taciturn, and they had even discussed recent sporting events now and again.

"Mr. Holmes instructed me to wait here, sirs."

"You're more than welcome to join us, mate."

George turned an amused expression on the lad and flashed a quick smile at Greg. "While I do appreciate the offer, that would in no manner be advisable. I don't mind waiting."

Eggsy shrugged before heading into The Black Prince. "No skin off mine." By the time that Greg had followed, the lad had already secured a table and two pints, and was staring out into the street as he absentmindedly twirled his glass on the table-top. He took a draught as Greg settled into the bench seat opposite him and took up his own pint. "So what the sweet buggering fuck was that all about then?"

"Fuck if I know, lad."

"You seemed pretty chummy with yours."

Greg nearly choked on his bitter. "Oh, you think so, do you? I've known the chap for five years, more or less, and we just started calling each other by our given names. Seem chummy to you? As far as I'm supposed to know, Mycroft Holmes is just a minor official in the British government, although we all know that he's something very much more than that. I don't know details, and I don't _want_ to know. I rather like my head right where it is, thank you very much. But before today, I also thought that he was unique. And then in walks yours, looking like a freaking clone or something - right down to the damn umbrella!"

"Yeah, that was weird. Never seen anyone else carrying a brolly the same way good ol' Harry does. But that's not exactly what I meant." Eggsy's face scrunched up as he gestured vaguely. "I meant, the, the tension or what-have-you."

Greg snorted as he took another draught. "That was pure crackling energy, lad. Those two obviously have a history, and they were clearly electric at one point. Whatever's between them, I would say that it wasn't exactly resolved satisfactorily. Especially on your pal's part. Holmes, he's - well, he's an Iceman. Cold, aloof. Keeps himself as separate as possible, although he can't quite manage that with his little brother. Felt like your Harry may have had a bit more fire in 'im."

"Harry's not 'my' anything."

" _Pfft._ Yes he is. Father figure, most like - a mentor. A friend, certainly. He cares for you, lad. That was easy enough to see."

"And you think that Holmes doesn't care about you?"

"Sure, as a means to an end. He's devoted to his mad genius of a brother, and I help to keep the little fucker on the straight and narrow. Wouldn't have been in that shop today if he hadn't insisted on 'paying me back' for all of the service I'd done for him. I'm fairly sure that I'm nothing more than an employee in his eyes."

The lad's eyes went round. "He's having a suit made for you? A Kingsman suit?"

Greg nodded, his own eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah, I know it's more than I'm worth, but he insisted."

Eggsy shook his head. "No, I don't think you quite understand. Harry’s said that the suit is the modern gentleman’s armour. It's not the cost, it's more like, like - protection."

"Hush, lad. Don't say anything that might give you away." Greg grinned at the green eyes that were widening even further. "Look, I don't know the score, not really. But I know enough to know that those mates of ours are up to one of three things right now." He held up his fingers one at a time, his smile widening with each point that he made. "One - fighting. Two - fucking." He chuckled at the look of revulsion that rippled over the boys face. "Don't knock it till you've tried it, lad. Or three, and I actually think this is the most likely - they're listening in on our chat right now. So don't get yourself in trouble."

Eggsy snorted in disgust. "Fuckers."

Greg chuckled. "Right you are. Say, is there a telly about? It would be grand to catch a bit of the match..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Harry work out a bit of their unresolved issues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just - I don't... I can't... 
> 
> Yeah. I really have no idea where this came from, but what the hell, it's here.
> 
> For those who are unfamiliar with my usual smut, let me assure you, that the rest of it is very much like this. I do hope you enjoy, and if so, please go check it out.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, as they keep my muse fat and happy!

Mycroft sighed as he turned the audio down low on the small receiver in the corner and turned cool grey eyes back to his companion. They'd already toasted to Lancelot's memory, not with the Napoleonic brandy, of course, but with a very fine vintage indeed. Harry’s eyes were equal parts amusement and smouldering heat, his lips quirking in that crooked grin that had endeared him to Mycroft all those years ago.

He lifted an imperious brow. "Gregory is often very perceptive. It is one of the things that I admire about him."

"That - and his arse, I imagine."

"Don't be crude, Harold. It never suited you as well as you imagined it did." Harry shrugged and settled back in his seat with a soft sigh, spreading his arms out along the back of the plush sofa. "I am sorry to hear about Lancelot. He was a good man, and no doubt a stellar agent. I remember the day he joined your team very well indeed."

"Seeing as how it was the last time we saw each other at all... Seventeen years, Mycroft. Was it because I allowed myself to feel something for Lee's death? You never did approve of my propensity toward the softer emotions. Or any at all, really."

"You know that I have never believed caring to be an advantage, Harold. I understood the reasoning behind your reaction, but I will admit that it made me - uncomfortable. And now it appears that you're training his son for the role you hoped Lee would take. I do hope that there is logic behind your choice, and that it is not simply a desire to make good on your promise to his late father."

Harry's eyes glinted dangerously as he scowled fiercely. "Jesus Christ, but you're a right arsehole. I really don't know what I ever saw in you. If it were any business of yours, which of course it isn't, I would tell you that he is extremely well-suited to the role. Just because he wasn’t born into the same advantages that we happen to share doesn’t mean that he isn’t perfectly capable of besting either of us.”

Mycroft’s lips twisted with amusement. “Good heavens, Harold, calm yourself. I may have been a classist arse in my past, when I was far too young and embarrassingly full of myself, but I can assure you that my attitudes have changed. If you believe the boy to be capable, then I have no doubt that he will succeed admirably.” He tilted his head as he sat on the opposite end of the leather sofa. “I just wonder if Arthur shares your opinion.”

“You bloody well know that he doesn’t. He’s an old hidebound elephant, and this organisation will only flourish when he’s gone.”

“Oh my. Do behave yourself, my good man. I would so hate to see you assassinated before my very eyes.”

Harry snorted as he turned in his seat to look Mycroft full in the face. “Andrew would no doubt be able to whisk away any trace of blood that may mar that perfect countenance of yours. I wouldn’t fret about it.”

Mycroft’s face softened slightly as he reached out to gently tap his pinkie finger against Harry’s hand. “Do you honestly believe that the only thing that would distress me would be the mess?”

“Don’t toy with me, Myc. Don’t you dare.” Harry pulled away abruptly, suddenly furious. “Seventeen years, and you’ve avoided me like the plague all that time. Our circles aren’t that divergent - you’ve deliberately withheld yourself from any function or occasion that we might have run across each other. You’ve behaved like a snake, for no reason that I can ascertain.” He scowled fiercely as Mycroft sighed heavily. “No call, no letter - no explanation whatsoever. And now you expect me to just drop to my knees and let you take what you want. It isn’t going to happen.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Did I even ask you for such a thing?”

“You don’t have to. I know that hungry look of yours. I fucking _adored_ that look and right now it’s twisting my guts into knots. I may actually be ill.” Harry shoved himself off the sofa and started to pace uneasily.

Mycroft cleared his throat gently. “Harold. Would you prefer it if I left?” His breath caught momentarily at the look of panic on his former lover’s face, and he swiftly strode over to where he was lingering by the window. He reached out to trace his fingers over his arm. “You’re quite right - I’ve behaved abominably. I am all of the things that you have labelled me - a snake, a coward, a bully, all of it. You are perfectly within your rights to hate me.” Mycroft smiled softly as Harry’s eyes fluttered against his breath, and he moved to kiss him high on either cheek, his fingers tightening around his wrist. “I do apologise most sincerely, and perhaps the next time we meet, you will be prepared to accept that apology.”

He moved as if to retreat, but found himself unable to back away, as Harry had his tie clenched in his fist, holding him firmly in place. Harry took in a deep breath, moving just a bit closer. “I’d forgotten how good you smell.” His eyes opened slowly, his cheeks gone quite a fetching shade of pink, and Mycroft couldn’t hold back on the sharp grin that sliced across his face. This was an ancient dance, that of predator and prey, and in all of their past interactions, it had been Mycroft that had hunted, the sensation of hunger nestling deep in his bollocks as he pursued his quarry with a relentless single-mindedness. He recognised the expression on Harry’s face now, that look of resignation, of surrender - quietly accepting the inevitability of his fate.

Not that his undoing was entirely unwelcome, as his eyes widened slightly, as they filled with their own longing and thirst for the man who was even now pushing in closer, crowding up against him until his back hit the wall with a solid thump. Harry swallowed as he released Mycroft’s tie, running the flat of his hand down the front of his suit to the zip of his trousers. They both shuddered as he palmed the considerable bulge there, greedily watching Mycroft’s eyes as they darkened with lust.

“I don’t hate you, Myc. Not really. You know that I loved you terribly for a very long time. And even when I knew for certain that it was over between us, I never allowed that feeling to sour, to turn to hate. But I won’t let my heart get broken again, do you understand? This…” He ground the heel of his palm up and down languidly, humming with every one of Mycroft’s tiny grunts of pleasure. “This is all that we will be to each other, and it would be advisable that it not last any longer than this night.” Harry quirked his crooked smile, feeling a tremulous flutter of excitement in his gut at the way Mycroft’s breath quickened at the sight of it. “Or maybe through to the next morning.”

Mycroft growled low, his hand slipping around Harry’s waist and pulling him in closer. “Harold...” He nibbled on his earlobe, tugging at it sharply with his teeth as the body he was pressed up against shuddered delightfully.

Harry pushed him away slightly, that same crooked grin working its way up to his eyes. “I won’t regret this, my slippery little serpent. But don’t fool yourself into thinking that it won’t wound me, either.” Mycroft tilted his head, blinking with confusion. “I don’t stand a chance, I know that. After all this time, you’ve somehow managed to find a heart in that ice-cold cavernous chest of yours. And I find you again just to discover that you’ve already given it away.”

“Harold.” Mycroft’s voice was low and stern, clearly warning him away from finishing that thought.

Harry simply slipped a knee in between his captor’s thighs, sighing breathily as Mycroft rubbed against him firmly. “No, Eggsy was right. You’re having a suit made for him - a Kingsman suit. You want to protect him. You never did that for me.”

“Your suit came with the job, and you are perfectly capable of protecting yourself.”

“Oh, so you’re saying he’s incompetent? That you have to save him from himself?” Harry laughed as a low, threatening growl rumbled through the long body pressed up against his. “Thought not. You’d never allow anyone to compromise your little brother’s safety, and you’ve all but handed him over to that man. It only follows that you’d be willing to hand yourself over as well.” He paused, once again pushing Mycroft away from the shelter of his neck briefly. “I will only say this once, and then I am going to go down on my knees to you one more time and I will proceed to suck the very soul out of you via your cock.” Mycroft simply stared at Harry as he took in a deep breath. “Don’t deny yourself, Myc. We’ve both seen the same video feeds, we both know exactly what kind of man your Lestrade is - a good one. He could make you very happy, if you let him. I know that you have long believed that closing yourself off is the best way to deal with emotional turmoil, but you have admitted that even you can change.” He reached up to tap at Mycroft’s temple gently. “Put that enormous brain of yours to the task. Write down all of the fucking pros and cons, if you have to. Feel the truth of what I am telling you and let yourself step off that cliff. You’ll be so much better for it.”

Mycroft nearly scoffed. “Sentiment. Harold, surely you know me better than that.”

“I knew you seventeen years ago, Myc. Certain things have changed, haven’t they?” Harry slid down the wall slightly, tilting his head back to smirk up at Mycroft’s outraged face before once again pulling him in by his tie, burying his nose in his throat and shuddering as a low rumble of approval echoed in his ears. “Oh, yes. In times past, you’d already be taking what you wanted, rather than waiting for me to give it to you.”

“Harold...”

“No, not like that. You know what I want to hear.”

Mycroft chuckled quietly, running his hands under Harry’s suit jacket and around, grasping his arse and squeezing firmly. He put his lips to his victim’s ear, blowing a gust of hot breath over the delicate curl. _“Harry...”_ His voice was dark and wickedly dirty, sending shockwaves of delight through the Kingsman’s body. “Harry, Harry, my lovely little tart. Time for you to get on your knees and serve your purpose, don’t you think?”

Harry quirked that crooked grin at him, his eyes flashing with utter desire, and stayed exactly where he was. Mycroft growled as he stepped back, placing both hands on Harry’s shoulders and pushing him down so that he slid down the wall completely, falling to his knees with practised ease. He instantly reached out to grasp at the backs of Mycroft’s thighs, pulling him in and simply planting his face in the crotch of his exquisitely-tailored suit.

Mycroft bit his lip as Harry’s groan reverberated through his core, the gentle vibrations shaking an extra dribble of pre-come from his cock, making his already considerably sticky pants even stickier. Harry looked up at him as he rubbed his cheek against his clothed prick. “Smell so good, Jesus, Myc.”

“Stop messing about, you filthy little tease. Or would you prefer that I take matters into my own hands?”

Harry looked up at him, his long eyelashes fluttering as he continued to mouth slowly along the zip of his trousers, his fingers squeezing rhythmically at the muscles of his thighs. He had always been better at this particular element of their games, the gentle teases, taking Mycroft to the very edge of his control by withholding just a bit more, by hinting and then backing away slowly until giving in. Mycroft had believed himself to be above all of that these days, having gained much more control over his own body and mind in the past seventeen years. He flattered himself, he knew, but he had yet to encounter anyone who could hold back as long as he could without the aid of any kind of restrictive device. He liked going slow, watching someone become more and more wrecked with every passing minute as he drove into them steadily, taking enormous pleasure in that moment when they would finally break down and start begging.

But with Harry... Oh, he knew him too well, knew just which buttons to push, knew all of his hidden secrets and desires. Not only that, but Mycroft was nowhere near as aloof as he pretended to be, and of course Harry knew that too. He had missed Harry as well, had often dreamt of him, awakening with a stiff prick and an intense need to get off, which was something that he could usually postpone after a standard wet dream. He couldn’t ignore his need when the star of his little fantasy was this man who was even now on his knees before him, as he had been so often before, in reality and in dreams.

That maddening mouth quirked ever-so-slightly, Harry fluttering his lovely brown eyes up at him in a frankly ridiculous display of innocence. It was a sham, of course it was, but it still sent a spike of sheer lust through Mycroft’s guts and deep into his bollocks. He growled faintly as he shoved his hand in between Harry’s mouth and his groin, unzipping his trousers and reaching in to pull out his aching cock. He let out an embarrassing groan of relief, nearly missing Harry’s wanton moan as he looked upon that which he had been denied for so long.

With a little smirk, Mycroft grasped the base of his prick and physically smacked it over Harry’s nose, like one might chastise a dog with a rolled-up newspaper. Harry let out a surprisingly high-pitched giggle, ducking his head lower to really get his nose into the open fly of Mycroft’s trousers, inhaling deeply and panting out hot breath as his cock trailed pre-come along his cheek.

“Myc, _ohh..._  So good. Never thought I’d have this again, and it’s just as lovely as I remember.”

Mycroft shuddered at Harry’s needy voice, unable to resist tugging on himself gently. “So why not allow yourself a treat, hm?” Harry tilted his head back, and Mycroft gazed down at him as he ran his fingers over his lips. They parted slightly, and Mycroft instantly took advantage, slipping his fingers in and prying his mouth open even more. Harry let out a garbled noise of approval as Mycroft put the head of his prick at his lips and pushed gently until it was nestled on his tongue.

Mycroft shivered again, holding himself back as Harry moaned low in his throat, his tongue curling around that perfect weight, his lips closing around the solid girth, sucking ever-so-lightly. Mycroft threw his head back for just a moment, getting a handle on that enviable control of his. Oh, but who was he kidding, anyway? They both knew what he wanted, and knew that Harry was more than willing to give it to him, so why not just take it? He braced his hands on the wall at Harry’s back and let his hips move forward, not quickly enough to make him choke, but at a pace designed to allow him to adjust around him, to let his throat stretch just so, to keep his breathing steady.

Harry looked up at him with utter adoration in his eyes, and Mycroft couldn’t help but grin as he let one hand drop onto his head, petting him as he thrust languidly. “That’s it - my sweet little pup. I just had to feed it to you, didn’t I? You always loved it when Master would feed his faithful doggie his favourite treat...”

Harry whined low in his chest, a tiny dribble of saliva oozing out from one corner of his mouth as Mycroft continued to use it, his hips rocking back and forth in a slow, steady pace. They had discovered Harry’s predilection for behaving as a human animal together, when in a fit of whimsy they had slipped a cheap collar around his neck. He had happily spent the entire night nude on his hands and knees, almost painfully aroused but seemingly content to ignore it as Mycroft threw random objects around his bedroom for him to fetch, as he settled down on the floor by his legs, wriggling eagerly as his head was petted and his neck scratched.

After the first session, which had ended with Mycroft coming quite spectacularly on Harry’s face after being honest-to-God _licked_ to orgasm, they had discussed it quite rationally. They were intelligent men, after all, and even though Harry’s initial reaction had surprised the both of them, they were able to view it as the stress reliever that it obviously was. If Harry didn’t have to act like a man, he didn’t have to think about his problems, either. Mycroft had actually envied him a bit during those particular experiences, watching the way his face would go blank but utterly content, eagerly following his Master’s commands without a second thought.

Not to mention the delightful noises he would make while Mycroft was using him, his little snarls and growls of pleasure, the quiet yips that were forced out as his prostate was stroked relentlessly, the panting moans and howls as he released... There had been one night that he had barked so loudly as he was fucked to a shuddering climax that Mycroft had received a reprimand from a neighbouring flat the next day. Dogs weren’t allowed, you see. Mycroft had waved it off with an airy explanation of tending to a friend’s animal while they were away on holiday and had promised that it would never happen again.

And it hadn’t, because Mycroft’s puppy always did as he was told, and he had behaved admirably in keeping his noises to a minimum from that night forward. Of course, the dog-bone shaped gag that was brought into their games shortly thereafter may have had something to do with that as well... Mycroft wondered idly if Harry had kept the items that they had used together, if perhaps once they went back to his (oh yes, there was no way he was walking out of here without Harry on his arm) he would pull them out without being prompted. A sudden surge of jealousy flared up as he lit on the possibility of those toys being used with someone else, a new Master.

Harry whined again as Mycroft’s rhythm hesitated, looking up as he grasped his legs harder and renewed sucking his cock feverishly, a blissful look wiping his brow clear of worries. He must have seen something of Mycroft’s thoughts in his face, as he blinked and shook his head slightly. No. No, of course he wouldn’t. Even if he had let himself behave as a pup, either by himself or with someone new, those toys were their toys, those games their games, and Harry would never besmirch their memory.

Mycroft snarled quietly, feeling angry with himself for allowing those shameful thoughts to surface. No, above all, Harry had always been unfailingly faithful and devoted to his original and perhaps his only Master. But that was something they could discuss later, as Mycroft’s distraction had let his control slip, and Harry was pressing his advantage, grinding his nose into his violator’s pubic bone as he deep-throated his cock. His moans and whines filled Mycroft’s ears, reminding him of all the times before when he had simply let him take his pleasure from him, much as he was doing now.

The sight of him, the sounds he was making, the way his tongue and throat were working at him...  _Oh_. And although Mycroft couldn’t see it, he knew instinctively that Harry’s own prick must be hard and leaking and quite painful, but he was making no move to touch himself or relieve his agony in any manner. Because that was for his Master, and he was more than happy to leave it for him.

He growled low as Harry choked around him quietly, whining again as Mycroft increased his pace, his body taking over with its own rhythm. His pup had been good, so very good, and he wanted him to have this treat, so he let himself go, let himself feel everything that he had kept bottled up for the past seventeen years, hearing a quiet sob escape as heat flooded his bollocks before they drew up tight, holding Harry’s head to him with one hand as he braced against the wall with the other, shoving himself in deep as his cock twitched and pulsed his release over Harry's tongue, down his throat.

Harry smiled brightly as Mycroft pulled out, letting the last pulse splash over his mouth and chin, moaning his approval as his Master squeezed himself firmly, milking out every little bit and spreading it over his pup’s lips. Mycroft took in a shuddering breath as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, smiling as Harry leant in to butt his head against his jaw affectionately.

“How could I have forgotten what a good puppy you are? So lovely and obedient...” Harry whined again, pawing gently at Mycroft’s suit, over the lapels and up his thighs. From his new vantage point, Mycroft could clearly see just how hard he was, and although his mouth was watering at the thought of it, that was a treat for later. Instead he shook his head slightly as he ran his fingers over Harry’s mouth and chin, wiping up as much of his come as he was able. Harry licked eagerly at his fingers as he presented them to him, growling and snarling low with delight. Mycroft laughed quietly, a sudden sense of warmth infusing his chest as Harry’s eyes twinkled at him merrily. “You always were such a messy eater. Come now.”

Mycroft pulled him up on his knees, his fingers working Harry’s zip loose. “Let your Master help you with this little annoyance, hm?” He drew out his thick, hard prick, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking firmly. “I always did love your cock, my sweet little pup.” Harry growled and moved his hips in short, quick jerks, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck. “Fits so nicely against my palm, so lovely and hard and hot and the gorgeous noises you make when you come and oh the mess on my hand...” Mycroft smiled as he moved his hand faster, twisting his wrist as he came to the head and back down again. “I know that I always made a fuss about the mess, always made you lick it up but you know that I love feeling you all hot and sticky and sated in my hand, knowing that I was the one who made you feel so very good. Because my pup is a sweet boy who deserves all the treats, am I right?”

Harry nodded wordlessly, his steady stream of animalistic grunts and whines and moans suddenly coming to a halt as his hips stuttered in their rhythm, as he let out a gust of air quickly followed by a series of high but quiet barking yelps. Mycroft gentled him through his orgasm, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair, petting him, soothing him. Harry’s body shuddered uncontrollably for long moments, the tang of his spunk hitting their nostrils at the same time. Harry moaned as Mycroft took in a deep breath, humming his approval at the aroma. He waited until he felt the member that he was cradling so carefully in his hand soften before releasing his grip.

Harry took his hand in between both of his without comment, slowly but surely licking up every last drop. Then he let his body drop to the floor, curling up around Mycroft and tucking his face into his thigh. Mycroft sighed and resumed petting him gently, feeling unaccountably angry at himself with the way he had treated this wonderful man. He realised now that it had been very much like kicking a puppy, and there was no way he could possibly justify his behaviour.

He cleared his throat quietly, noting that Harry’s head seemed to perk up under his hand slightly. “I was hoping that we could perhaps go back to yours, if you’re amenable.” He grinned down at the brown eyes that were twinkling up at him, that horridly endearing crooked smile once again putting in an appearance. “I would dearly love it if you would allow me to fuck you one last time, my sweet pup.”

Harry groaned and buried his face in Mycroft’s belly, but he also swiftly got to his feet and pulled his Master up after him, making sure that all appendages were properly tucked away before walking out of the Kingsman’s sitting room. He silently led the way back out to the street, where they took one of the many company cars that were disguised as taxis back to Harry’s flat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Eggsy getting to know one another...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Greggsy" - I'm calling their ship-name now. Just because UnStrade just doesn't work for me, I guess. Hee!
> 
> Anyhoo - please enjoy, please let me know what you think. I realise that it's pure crack, but whatevs. ;-p

Greg and Eggsy found that telly and watched the rest of the match in a companionable silence, only breaking it when one or the other went to refresh their pints or to relieve the pressure on their bladders. Afterwards they migrated back to the table by the window, and started to talk again, this time sharing a bit about themselves.

Eggsy made the proper sympathetic noises over the tale of Greg’s divorce, even though the older man had certainly not told the story in order to gain any sympathy. It had been finalised over three years ago now, and Greg didn’t have any lingering sense of shame or pity over it. It was what it was, and he had long ago accepted the idea that he would most likely wind up alone. It had just been an example of life, an ambiguous illustration of how being young and full of certainty could definitely come back to bite you in the arse later on.

Although the lad was young, he’d been through enough that he wasn’t overly cocksure about his own future. Greg discovered that when Eggsy started telling his own story, about how his father had died in some mysterious manner when he was four years old, and this posh bloke in a suit had showed up to hand him a medal and whisper some odd phrase in his ear.

“Harry?”

“Spot on, mate. He pulled some strings and got me out of a bad spot, and then, well...”

“Offered you an opportunity that you couldn’t refuse.”

Greg grinned as Eggsy’s eyes rolled. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.” The lad fiddled with his nearly-empty pint a bit more. “But until that really pays off, until I can get Mum and Daisy out of that stinkin’ pit of a flat, away from..." He shook his head in disgust. "Never mind.”

“No, lad.” Greg reached out and squeezed his forearm gently. “I’m here and I'm listening, so tell me.”

Eggsy blinked at his warm brown eyes, the sincerity and steady calm in Greg’s face, and for the first time, he found himself telling the story in full, telling him how his Mum couldn’t cope after his dad’s death. How she turned to drink and to one of the nastiest pieces of shit that damn near lived at the pub, surrounded by his rag-tag gang of muppets. How she found herself pregnant and had agreed to marry the lout because she didn’t see any other way out of it.

How he had managed to join the Royal Marines, and was doing quite well until his Mum had called up and had a full-blown panic attack over the phone, threatening to kill herself if he didn’t come back to her because without him she wouldn’t be able to survive. Greg’s hand closed over his when his voice caught, choking out the horrible things that she had said to him on the worst night of his life thus far.

“She said - _fucking hell_ \- she said that I might as well come back and just shoot her in the heart because it would be more humane than going off and leaving her with him.”

“Eggsy...” Greg hesitated and was gratified when the lad clutched his hand a little harder. “The things that people say when they’re upset - you know that they don’t mean them.”

“Nah, that ain’t true. If it wasn’t in her head, it wouldn’t have come out of her mouth.” Greg slumped back in his seat a bit and reluctantly let go of Eggsy’s hand as he shook him off, wiping away traitorous tears. “Don’t blame her, though, not after the way my dad had died. Not that we knew the details, of course.”

He fell silent, then, but not for long. He had shared some tales with his mates, of course, but none of them really knew the extent of Dean’s cruelty. How the whippings for minor infractions had turned to blows from clenched fists, how he would wake him from a dead sleep with a crack across the face and a demand that he get out of bed in order to clean up the mess Dean had left behind after puking his guts out from just one too many lagers. How Eggsy would obey, every time, just because it meant that his mum might be able sleep a little longer, hoping that if he appeased him, he would just leave her alone.

But of course he never did. Eggsy took a small amount of satisfaction in the way that Greg’s face settled into a hard mask, the older man clearly trying to hide his distaste and outright anger at the way he had been treated by his stepfather. But he felt the shame too. When he looked at that rough but kind face, seeing the hatred flash in those caring eyes, Eggsy knew that this was a man who would never stand for that sort of thing. So what kind of a man was he, then?

Sure he talked back from time to time - again, to draw Dean’s ire onto him and away from the more vulnerable inhabitants of that dank prison. But he had never lifted a hand to defend himself or his mum either. He had always just run away. He nodded curtly as something in Greg’s expression shifted, a subtle recognition.

“Don’t you blame yourself, lad. You din’t have the skills, and you were afraid that the repercussions wouldn’t just fall on you. You did what you had to, yeah?” Eggsy nodded again, not trusting his voice to come out without a tremor. “And things are changing, aren’t they? Changing for the better.”

“Yeah.” Eggsy grinned fiercely, and took an inordinate amount of joy in the way Greg’s face cleared with an easy grin of his own. “Yeah, they are. Won’t be long before I get them out of there, get them safe. And then that fucker better watch out.”

Greg chuckled and knocked his foot against the lad’s leg under the table. “Good. I’ll help, Eggsy. Any way you need me to.”

Eggsy’s grin broadened sightly. “Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re very helpful, aren’t you, Detective Inspector?” Greg’s eyebrow quirked, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You’re a hell of a lot easier to talk to than Harry, that’s for sure.”

Greg shrugged idly. “Well, yeah. We come from similar places, you and I. Our posh mates - well, they’re posh. They don’t always get it, do they?”

“Harry tries, but no, he don’t get it. Not always.”

Greg leant forward slightly. “Then what do you need?”

Eggsy swallowed and hesitated, and during that brief pause something suddenly flared up between them, that subtle tension that Greg always relished. The feeling of anticipation, of doubt and uncertainty, but quite sincere want. He blinked in surprise and felt his face break out into one of his wickedest grins.

Green eyes darted up to meet his, and back down again in a millisecond, a bright blush blooming high on the lad’s cheeks. He cleared his throat with a tiny swallow and lifted his glass to his lips, blinking in embarrassment as he realised it was quite empty. Eggsy pushed it away impatiently, and tucked his hands under the table so Greg couldn’t see his fingers as they twiddled nervously.

“Earlier. You - you said you were divorced. But be-before that, you...you said something about - _um_.”

Greg seized upon the opportunity immediately. “That our mates might be fucking.” He winked. “And not to knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Um.” Eggsy nodded as his voice broke slightly, his cheeks heating up even further. “Y-yeah.”

Greg’s grin sharpened into something predatory, his heartbeat starting to quicken slightly. “Yeah - I was married at some point, but I’ve fucked around with both men and women. There is this thing called bisexuality, perhaps you’ve heard of it?” Eggsy rolled his eyes and nodded again. Greg let a low rumble of pleasure vibrate through his chest. “And having both at the same time - well now, that’s living, lad.”

“ _Um_. Ah.” The young man cleared his throat again as Greg tilted his head and leant in just a bit more. “See, now - Harry’s mentioned that I might find myself in certain situations and that I, um, might have to, ah...”

Greg chuckled. “It’s not like the Bond movies, is it, Eggsy? Can’t just walk into a room and pick out the prettiest bird and have her falling all over you with a wink and a nod, eh? You might need to extract information from anyone, be willing to adapt yourself to any situation.”

Eggsy frowned slightly. “I thought you din’t know how this worked.”

“I said, lad, that I know enough. And the reason that such physical means are used is because they work more often than not, and very well at that. I’ve done my bit of undercover from time to time, and not once have I regretted employing the necessary means.” Greg shrugged. “It helps if you look like you know what you’re doing, that you’re actually enjoying it.”

“Yeah. And I, um...” Eggsy sighed heavily. “Again, Harry mentioned in a sort of roundabout way that maybe I should spend a bit of time in Soho, cruise a few bars, get a little experience. But I can’t - not like that.”

“Why not? It’s a good way to test yourself. Most of those blokes are just looking for quick and dirty anyway, and they’ll happily teach you whatever you want to know. Fuck, you go in there and tell them you’re straight but exploring, and you’ll have them lined up in droves. Pretty young things with fabulous arses and mouths to fucking die for.” Greg winked saucily, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “They’re always looking for new recruits.”

 _“Guh.”_ Eggsy shivered as Greg chuckled again, his brown eyes twinkling. “I mean - yeah, I know, but, but I j-just can’t.”

“You need someone willing to take some time with you, not some random just busting a nut and walking away, is that right?” The lad blushed again, and Greg felt something expand in his chest at the sight of it. “A mentor, perhaps someone with some experience willing to teach you properly. Yes?”

Eggsy swallowed nervously and forced his eyes to meet Greg’s. “Yes, sir.”

Greg sucked in a quick breath as the blood swiftly left his brain and veered south. Damn, but that was a beautiful voice - that needy but obedient tone, and oh what it was doing to him. “I have no doubt that you’ll make someone a very fine pupil, lad. Would you like me to help you find that person?”

A swift pang of frustration at Greg’s deliberate ruse lit up the boy’s features, but he quickly schooled his expression back into one of bashful hopefulness. “I think I’ve found just the person I need, sir.”

“Oh, is that so?” Greg sat back and spread his arms out in a questioning gesture. “Then you need my help in what way?”

Eggsy frowned again, but forced himself to relax. It was a game, right? Surely, Greg had to know that he wanted him to be the one to teach him. He was playing some sort of game with him, trying to feel out how far he would go, maybe trying to see if he would ask for it outright rather than skirting around the issue and continuing to embarrass himself. “I would like your assistance - sir - in convincing said man to bring me back to his.” He took in a deep breath and reached for Greg’s knee under the cover of the table, squeezing a surprisingly firm thigh as he ran his hand up as high as it would go. He felt a distinct sense of satisfaction in the way the older man squirmed in his seat, sucking in a quick breath as he bit his bottom lip.

“Well, that’s a very good start, Eggsy. I think you’ll make a very quick study indeed.”

Eggsy felt a swift bolt of confidence shoot through him and he allowed his bashfulness to melt away into a bit of a smug smile. It bloomed into a full grin as Greg shook his head with a wry smile of his own, a positively endearing look on that gentle face. “Sooo...”

“An’ what’s this, then? Lookin’ ta make a bit o’ dosh on th’ side, like dear ol’ mum?” Greg frowned as Eggsy flinched away from him, releasing his knee and hunching in on himself. The young man rolled his eyes as he cast a sideways glance at the gang of three men approaching their table. “This is th’ second time we’ve caught ya here with some posh fucker hoping to get a taste o’ that slutty arse o’ yers.”

Greg choked out a harsh bark of laughter as he looked down at himself. “You think this is posh?” He turned slightly and perused the ill-fitting track suits, either way too loose or very much too tight, the greasy hair and obnoxious gold chains. “Well, alright then. Compared to you lot, I might as well be living in Buckingham Palace. Fuck’s sake, but you’re all travesties.” He turned back to the lad across from the table, clearly signalling that he was done with the little gang.

“Oi, watch yerself, old man.”

“Dean, just fuck off, would you? We’re just having a chat, and it’s really none of your business.”

“Yer arse _is_ my business, boy, an’ don’t ya ever forget it.”

Eggsy felt his eyes widen in alarm, and quickly shook his head as Greg shot him a questioning look, quick and sharp as a knife to his chest. No, he hadn’t - had never even hinted at it until he had seen his stepson loitering about with older men. But lately it had been almost like he wanted to lay a claim on him the same way he had his mother, and the mere thought petrified Eggsy to no end.

“Right. We’re done here.” Greg shifted on the bench and stood, brushing down his suit perfunctorily. “Eggsy. That tutoring we were discussing earlier. We can get started right away, if you’d like.”

Greg felt a small amount of pride in the way the lad’s face lit up briefly. “Yeah, that’d be brill.” He made as if to stand, shrinking away slightly as Dean’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“Tutor? What th’ fuck kinda tutor are ya? An’ what th’ fuck would this idiot be needin’ tutorin’ fer, anyway?”

“That would be none of your business.” He turned to face Dean fully, his eyes going hard and cold. “Get your hand off of him. He comes with me.”

There was a brief flare of indignation on Eggsy’s face, but it vanished as Greg turned those eyes back on him. He wasn’t staking a claim, not really, and Eggsy knew that if he objected, the older man would walk away. He wasn’t being possessive, although that’s what it looked like at first blush. No, he was just being protective. Protective the way a real father should be. Eggsy shifted once more and pushed Dean’s hand away, standing and going to Greg’s side.

He couldn’t help but flinch as Dean’s eyes narrowed and he stepped in a bit closer. He poked at Greg’s chest. “Listen, ya old pervert, he’s mine an’ he stays.”

“Eggsy?” Greg’s voice made it perfectly clear that he would accept any decision that the younger man made, and just the thought of that filled him with an indescribable warmth.

“We’re leaving, Dean. Just fuck off, would ya?”

Greg stumbled slightly as Dean pushed him, and even as Eggsy reached out to brace him with a hand on his back, his own hand lashed out and clamped down on his attacker’s wrist, squeezing hard. Dean let out a surprised whimper as the delicate bones ground together. “Right. I guess we’re going to have to take this outside, then.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the backup flanking his opponent. “You lot stay in here like good little muppets.” Greg released Dean with a tiny smirk. “We do this, we do it right. No fucking sneak attacks.”

“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the back door, waving his hands as his compatriots started to follow. “Stay, ya idiots.”

Greg rolled his head on his shoulders and followed, quickly loosening his tie and slipping it over his head before tucking it into a jacket pocket. Then he slipped that off as well, handing it back to Eggsy with a little wink. “Come watch, lad.”

 _“Pfft.”_ Eggsy let a tiny giggle slip from his lips as he lowered his voice. “Two burly blokes fighting over me, I just may swoon where I stand. If only I had a token of my affection for my favoured suitor...”

Greg broke out into full-bellied laughter, turning his bright grin on the sour-looking man that was leading the way as he looked over his shoulder. Dean slipped out the back door, and Greg swiftly took advantage of his absence, pushing Eggsy into a dimly-lit corner. “Presuming that I am the one you want to walk away with, why not give me a little incentive right now?”

His belly swooped as Eggsy bit his lip shyly, as he reached up to cup the back of Greg’s neck, pulling him down. He knew that it wasn’t exactly a good place or time for something deep and meaningful, so he simply pressed his lips to the older man’s mouth gently, employing just a tiny amount of pressure and movement, withdrawing with a small swipe of his tongue over Greg’s bottom lip. “My champion.”

Greg was breathing a little heavier when he pulled away, and when his eyes opened, they had gone a shade darker, a touch warmer. “Oh, _yes_ , lad. A very quick study indeed.”

Eggsy beamed at him with an intoxicating mixture of pride and anticipation, and Greg once more felt that heated swoop low in his belly. It was blindingly obvious that the boy was seeking approval from an older male, dare he even think it - a father figure? As long as he offered abject approval and praise along with calm, gentle instruction, he’d have Eggsy begging for more before too long. But first...

Greg reluctantly pulled away and slipped out the door, trusting in Eggsy to follow as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Dean snorted derisively, cracking his knuckles in what he obviously believed to be an intimidating display. Greg rolled his eyes and turned to gift Eggsy with a little wink, but that was when Dean moved, closing in with a right hook that glanced off of the silver-haired man’s chin.

Greg stepped away with a swift jerk, re-appraising the greasy fucker that was even now trying to circle behind him. Slimy and over-blown he may be, but he was quick. Not enough power behind the blow, although he knew that was because he had deliberately held back, testing out Greg’s limits. Greg decided to give him a bit more of a taste, stepping in close and trapping the arm that was flung out in his direction under his own, delivering a couple of hard blows to the smaller man’s kidneys.

He let him pull away, grinning fiercely as Dean tried to suck in breath, holding a hand to his side as he glared ineffectually. Greg let his arms dangle and kept his knees bent, waiting for the next strike. But he caught a glimpse of Eggsy’s nervous face out of the corner of his eye, and let his defence slip slightly, wanting to reach out to comfort him. Dean noticed, of course, and came in with that same swift right hook, putting more of the weight of his body behind the blow.

He connected with Greg’s temple, the ring he was wearing glancing off the ridge of his left brow and slicing it open. Greg sputtered and growled in anger, once again moving in close to incapacitate that arm and deliver a steady cascade of blows to the smaller man’s chest and face. This was the kind of fighting that he was good at, close-quarters brawling, sheer brute force. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to really let go, to unleash the anger and hatred by simply beating the hell out of someone. He felt the capitulation in the body pressed up against his, felt Dean’s legs give way until the only thing that was holding him up was Greg’s own grip on his right arm.

Eggsy hissed quietly from behind him. “Greg, I think that’s enough now.” Lestrade let go and blinked uncertainly, raising the back of one hand to wipe over his brow, attempting to prevent the trickle of blood from dripping into his eye. He was only vaguely aware of Dean slumping to the ground in a graceless heap as Eggsy stepped close, reaching up to run his thumb under Greg’s eye. “Fuck if that wasn’t a rush and a half. Fighting over me like I’m some kind of prize. Ain’t ever been worth that much before.”

“You’re worth all that and more, lad.” Greg swayed slightly, the blow to his head still ringing quietly in his ears. He turned at the quiet click of the back door, frowning as Dean’s goons stepped out and the tall, spotty one immediately reached into one of the pockets of his voluminous track suit. His eyes narrowed as his head tilted. “If you’re thinking about pulling out that little firecracker of yours, you’d best think twice. I’ll haul your worthless scrawny arse in without blinking.”

“Wot? Wot kinda perv are ya, anyways?”

“He means that he’d nick you, you stupid fuck. He’s a copper.”

The goons both blanched and took off without a backward glance at the sad lump on the ground, leaving Greg and Eggsy in peace. The younger man took hold of Greg’s arm and started to tug him in the direction of the car. George blinked quietly at the steady flow of blood streaming down the older man’s face, and silently held up one finger as he ducked back in the driver’s side and came up with an extensive first aid kit. He handed it over to Eggsy with a little wink and waited until both of his passengers were tucked away before heading to Greg’s tiny flat without comment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of introspection, and a lot of anticipation on the way back to Harry's...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have some more Hartcroft, w/ puppy play! Yay! 
> 
> Next chapter will be Greggsy - I think I'll be switching off between the two couples as the story progresses.
> 
> Still very interested to know what my peeps think of my newest foray into unabashed smut!
> 
> *mwah*

They were completely silent on the way to Harry’s, both of the men either lost in musings of the past or eagerly anticipating events of the future. The immediate future, anyway. Mycroft flickered his gaze over the man at his side, wondering how solid his resolve to keep this to one night would remain. He could convince him otherwise, he knew that for certain, but he found his chest swimming with an unfamiliar sensation - doubt.

It wasn’t that he doubted his own feelings. Oh no - he knew that it wouldn’t take much at all for him to fall in love with Harry Hart all over again. In fact, that was why he had worked so hard to avoid seeing him during all of those interminable social obligations that they both were required to attend. Mycroft had understood that Harry’s job was dangerous, he had known the risks absolutely. But Lee’s unfortunate and quite sudden death had reinforced that vague concept to such an unacceptable degree that Mycroft had decided that a preemptive strike was necessary. In order to save his heart and possibly his sanity, he had decided to simply walk away.

Not that listening to Harry’s entreaties for just one more night, one more chance to show how much he loved him, a chance for - anything, anything at all... The letters and voice messages had all followed the same basic pattern - _‘Damn it, Myc, what the hell happened - I deserve to know - you ungodly prick! - I love you - I know you love me I know it, don’t you dare to tell me otherwise, don’t you dare...’_ He had listened to them all, read all of the letters, committing his truly awful handwriting to memory before burning the lot.

Mycroft’s eyes pricked slightly as he thought back to the last call, the one he had actually taken rather than let go to voicemail. How he had struggled to keep his voice calm and detached, steadily denying his feelings even as they raged in his chest, burning a hole in his guts. How he had slapped Harry down with a firm, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Harold. I don’t owe anyone anything and we are done’. How he had flung his phone away after ending that call with a definitive sneer his in voice and tears cascading down his face, running a shower afterwards that had been hot enough to nearly scald all the flesh from his bones, sobbing and raging against himself one last time. It had been all too easy to imagine Harry doing the same in his quiet little flat and oh, how he had hated himself for causing his lover so much pain.

But it had been necessary in order to save himself. Right? He had shut down his heart, and done his best to forget, let himself move on. Until a decade and some years later, when he had been called to the Met to fetch his brother. The obnoxious prat had been making a nuisance of himself at various crime scenes, and had finally been forcibly pulled in to a Detective Inspector’s office in order to explain himself. Mycroft had come sweeping in with his efficient and cold manner, nearly reducing the desk sergeant to tears before he had been allowed into the same room as his brother.

The man behind the desk had looked him over from top to toe, an altogether too bright smile spreading slowly over his face. Sherlock had huffed as Mycroft’s body had jerked almost imperceptibly, DI Lestrade’s dark eyes drawing him nearer. Yes, those eyes, so like Harry’s and yet not - darker, stronger, somehow. Infinitely more commanding and far too mesmerising for his comfort. The man was an obvious leader, just like Mycroft himself - an alpha male of a different stripe, brawn rather than brains. Although he had never even had the urge to submit to anyone before, Mycroft would happily have gone to his knees for him right at that moment, even in front of his fool of a brother.

But no. He was the heartless Iceman, not some simpering idiot who believed in love at first sight. Not even when Gregory had curtly reduced his aggravating little brother into a stunned silence with a few words and a well-placed glare. He had turned and without missing a beat, his scowl had lightened and he had winked - _winked!_ \- at Mycroft with a gentle laugh. And then he had astonished both of the Holmes brothers by offering Sherlock a chance to consult for him on his cases. As long as - and this was definitely when Mycroft’s heart was lifted from his chest - as long as he kept himself clean.

“No junkies allowed. That’s the rule.”

Sherlock had gone white with shock, truly affronted at what he saw as a horrible slight on his oh-so-sterling character, but as he turned to his older brother, he knew the battle for his dignity was lost before it had even begun. He sighed and nodded his curly head as Mycroft gave him his sternest side-eye, agreeing to the terms silently. And he had kept to that agreement - for the most part. There had been a couple of slip-ups, but Gregory had behaved admirably during Sherlock’s recoveries, sitting sentinel at his bedside at hospital, taking Mycroft’s usual spot without complaint.

Gregory had come to replace him in his brother’s affections, Mycroft knew that. But he didn’t mind, not really. They hadn’t been all that close for quite a while, and under Gregory’s watchful eye, Sherlock had been completely clean for a solid four years now. As long as he was healthy and his mind was engaged, Mycroft could rest easy in the knowledge that he had adopted another older brother, one obviously much more well-suited for him. Mycroft knew also that he could never do anything to upset the pseudo-sibling balance that existed between the two men, and that because of it, Gregory was solidly out of bounds with regards to any romantic or sexual advances on his part.

No, he would simply admire him from afar and offer his encouragement from time to time, occasionally stopping by a crime scene after just happening upon that little café that Gregory frequented and picking up the odd latte along the way. Sherlock would roll his eyes and grumble loudly about _some_ body being an overbearing interfering old prat, and Gregory would give him that absolutely pants-melting smile, moaning obscenely after the first sip of his coffee, and then Mycroft would simply have to bolt for the safety of his car before the rest of his clothing mysteriously vanished into the ether.

It had become a great deal harder in the past six months to keep his thoughts and his hands to himself. He had been a silent witness via CCTV to an altercation in an anonymous alleyway, a scuffle involving Sherlock and a suspect that he had foolishly decided to pursue on his own. Gregory had chased after his wayward consultant as usual, and had cleanly disabled Sherlock’s attacker with a startlingly arousing display of fisticuffs. He had not seen the man’s compatriot lurking around the corner, however, and had no idea that a gun was being levelled at his back. Mycroft had frozen in sheer terror, but then the rest of Gregory’s team had swooped in and arrested the lot, nearly dragging Sherlock in as well for endangering them all with his impetuousness.

After Gregory had thoroughly chastised his errant sibling with some hard words and an even harder stare, Sherlock had turned a questioning look on the nearest security camera, and Mycroft had found himself nodding in agreement to his silent demand. Yes, that was when the brothers both decided that Gregory needed some form of protection, and Mycroft had done what he could to get the silver-haired DI into the shop to get him measured for some top-of-the-line Kingsman attire. He could not deny that part of the appeal was the possibility of seeing Gregory in something more well-fitted than his usual garb.

But now... Well, that didn’t matter, did it? Gregory was still going to get the suit, as well as a few extras. He hadn’t exactly been appalled or even surprised as Andrew had pulled him aside to comment on the Detective Inspector’s distinct lack of proper undergarments, no, more like intrigued. Mycroft was even perhaps a tiny bit ashamed of the glare that he had cast at the young man who had attended to Gregory’s measurements, knowing that he had seen what he never would. And then to find that the little hussy had slipped his phone number into Gregory’s pocket some time during their encounter - ugh.

But that didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because he was not his and he never would be. Let him defile that silly tart of a shop boy in any way he chose, and he and Harry would have their fun as well and everything would be fine and good and once the fun was over, that would be that. Right? He cast his companion another glance and was gratified to catch him looking back, his cheeks already pink as he quirked that crooked smile at him. God, yes, that stupidly beautiful smile that he had loved so dearly.

Harry’s eyes went wide at what they saw in Mycroft’s face, and he swallowed uneasily as they turned into his drive. Mycroft sighed and let his shoulders drop slightly, resolving never to hurt this man ever again. He would let Harry set the boundaries, would let him take what he needed from him and then would walk away without argument. If that was what Harry wanted, of course.

He cleared his throat as Harry parked the car, reaching out to rest his fingertips lightly on his thigh. “Harry, my dear - I need to know that you truly wish for this to happen. Despite all of my previous actions, I would not wish to hurt you for all the world.”

Harry blinked at him for a moment before twining their fingers together, giving Mycroft’s hand a solid squeeze. “Oh, I want this. Very much.” He grinned again and pressed Mycroft’s hand to his crotch, where he was already hard again. “Very very much, as you can tell.” Mycroft shook his head with a bemused smile, grinding down into him gently. Harry blinked again before settling back in his seat slightly. “I know why you did it, Myc. After I stopped hurting so unbearably I was able to look at it from your perspective, and it was suddenly so clear. You wouldn’t be able to see me on that slab with half my insides hanging out, feeling your heart crumble into dust around you. So you reached inside your chest and crushed all the love right out of you, took possession of your own irrational feelings. I get it. I do. But that doesn’t excuse what you did to me. It was ugly and it was cowardly and it was completely unnecessary.”

Harry grinned again as Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at him imperiously. “Unnecessary?”

Harry rolled his eyes and nearly smacked the man sitting next to him. “Well, I never died, did I? You colossal dummy, I’m still here! Seventeen _years_ , you complete arse! We could have been loving and fucking for seventeen sodding years rather than pining away for each other!” Mycroft opened his mouth again, shutting it with a snap as Harry squinted at him rather dangerously. “Don’t you even. I know how you felt, I know how you still feel, even if you are currently crushing on that rather handsome policeman. You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about me.” He grinned again. “Dreamt about me on my knees for you, begging for your cock. Bringing you off with nothing but my tongue...”

 _“Nghk.”_ Mycroft took in a shuddering breath, squirming in his seat. “Damn you, Harold.”

“Oh yes.” He nodded toward his door. “So we’re going to go in there and you will be free to defile me for however long you like and that will be all there is to it. Until there’s more. And more. And perhaps after that...” Harry hesitated and brought Mycroft’s hand up to his cheek, nuzzling into it gently. “Perhaps after that we can discuss what comes next.”

“I thought you wanted nothing further to do with me after tonight.”

Harry sighed heavily. “That was before I rather foolishly put myself into a confined space with you and your damned cologne. You’ve no idea how difficult I’m finding it not to simply plant my face in your crotch and inhale you.” His eyes flashed as Mycroft shivered visibly. “Your smell, Myc. Jesus, it just makes me all - frisky.” He frowned melodramatically. “And I’ve had no-one to play with.”

Mycroft sat back with a sceptical look on his face. “No-one at all?”

Harry shrugged. “A few one-offs here and there. Nobody special enough to share - that - with. Nobody could ever make me heel the way you could, Myc.”

He whined as Mycroft suddenly pulled him in by his tie, kissing him fiercely. “Inside. Now. Or I might just be forced to fuck you in the backseat of your employer’s car.”

“Seeing as how you are the British Government and thus ultimately my employer, more or less, I believe we could expense the cleaning bill.”

Mycroft shook his head with a fond grin and released his captive, getting out of the car and swiftly striding to Harry’s front door, swinging his umbrella all along the way. Harry hastened to get said door open, stepping inside and dropping to his knees as soon as it was shut behind them. Mycroft allowed him a brief bout of crotch-sniffing, shuddering pleasantly at the hot puffs of breath washing over his genitals through the fabric of his trousers.

“Enough, pup. You’ll be able to sniff me at leisure a bit later.” He bent down and grasped Harry’s arms, bringing him to his feet and turning him in the direction of his stairs. “Go shower. Make sure you take enough time to do a very thorough job, but do not linger. You understand?”

Harry whined and nodded, taking off for his bathroom without further comment. Mycroft took the ten minutes or so that he knew he would need to reacquaint himself with Harry’s flat, noting with a bit of amusement that nothing much had changed. He hung his jacket and umbrella on the rack before wandering into the dining area, taking in the one place setting with a bit of unease and pity.

He rapidly shook it off. It wasn’t exactly like his flat had changed all that much in the past two decades either. And he had an almost embarrassing over-abundance of china, considering that most of his meals were either eaten out, or at the office. Now, as it was then, he and Harry were nearly perfectly well-suited for each other. Mycroft poured himself a draught of scotch from a fine crystal decanter and sipped as he waited.

Not that he had all that long to wait, as Harry came around the corner clad in a fluffy white dressing gown, his damp hair combed back from his forehead and a shoe box clutched in his hands. He set the box down on the table and quickly shed his robe, draping it over the back of a chair as he once again started to go to his knees.

“Ah-ah! Wait, pup." Mycroft set his glass down and tilted his head. "Master would like to have a look at you.”

Harry blinked rapidly as he assessed, clearly desiring to curl up into an unassuming ball at Mycroft’s feet instead. But he simply nodded and clenched his fists, standing nice and straight. Mycroft hummed his approval and leant in to press their cheeks together briefly. “Such a good boy.” He reached out to swipe his palm over a belly that had gone a bit saggy, perhaps, but was still nice and flat and strong. Mycroft rubbed perfunctorily, smiling at the way Harry’s head went back and a low rumble of approval vibrated through his chest.

Mycroft circled him slowly, keeping contact with Harry’s skin so as not to startle him unduly as he moved. Yes, yes - still lovely even after so many years. He bit his lip as he considered his own appearance, the unsightly bit of tummy that he had managed to acquire due to his fondness for certain custard-based desserts. He sighed as he ran both hands from Harry’s waist up his back, running his fingers through his hair. “Such a lovely thing you are.” Mycroft delighted in the way Harry’s spine twisted at the sound of his voice, stepping in closer and pressing his clothed prick into the cleft of that beguiling arse. He wrapped his arms around the trim torso, deftly tweaking Harry’s nipples as he ran his hands down. His Master’s fingers dabbled in the thick curls surrounding Harry’s prick before wrapping around it, giving it a solid tug as he blew a cool breath into his captive’s ear. “Oh, so eager for me, my beautiful little puppy-dog.”

Harry whined as he was released, Mycroft’s attention going to the shoebox sitting on the table. “I see you brought Master a gift. Shall I see what’s in it?” Harry nodded silently, his legs trembling as he continued to fight the urge to go to his knees. Mycroft smiled gently and pulled out the nearest chair. “Sit, pup.” Harry immediately obeyed with a happy grin, his eyes fluttering at the tone of command in Mycroft’s voice. His Master showed his approval with a swift scratch under the chin before opening the box, slowly removing the items and laying them out on the table.

The bone-shaped gag was there, of course, as well as his collar, an understated brown leather affair that had always looked somehow dignified on Harry’s neck. There were a few odd toys, rubber balls and the like, along with the tail that he would wear upon occasion. It had never been one of Mycroft’s favourite props, as it would whip about with only the slightest provocation and he had unfortunately been struck with it numerous times. Not only that, but it blocked access to that fine arse, and that was something that Master simply could not tolerate.

He would allow it during the prelude to their activities, when Harry was submerging himself in his canine persona by chasing balls and rolled-up socks, but as soon as he commanded him to ‘drop it’, the plug would be removed and carefully set aside. Harry would then drop to his elbows and stick his arse in the air, still wriggling gently with excitement and barking quietly, a clear signal that he was ready to ‘play’. Or ‘get fucked silly’, which of course was how Mycroft preferred to think of it.

God, but he had missed this. He cast a sideways glance at Harry, who was still sitting as calmly as he could, his whole body vibrating with anticipation. Mycroft leant in and presented his cheek, giggling quietly as Harry yipped and licked his jaw enthusiastically. Then he turned his attention back to the box, to the leash coiled up at the bottom along with the shorter control lead. He lifted it out and eyed his pup uncertainly, but no - not tonight. He was sure that Harry hadn’t forgotten any of his lessons, and that tonight of all nights, he would behave admirably.

The item he was searching for was suddenly found, and he pulled the small leather cock-strap out with a little ‘ah’ of delight. Leash and lead and tail remained in the box, and Mycroft turned to Harry with his collar in hand. He ran the soft leather through his fingers, listening to the soft jingle of the tags. Harry had insisted, and Mycroft had been almost absurdly pleased to see the ‘if lost, please return to’ over his name, engraved on the solid brass. His pup looked up at him with huge brown eyes, already stretching his neck out to make it easier for him to slowly draw the collar around it and work the buckles closed, slipping two fingers between the leather and skin in a gesture borne of many fond memories.

Mycroft caressed his cheek as Harry’s chest hitched slightly, wiping a solitary tear from his eye. “All right, love?” Harry nodded wordlessly, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to him. Mycroft crouched briefly, holding his face in both hands. “I know it might be a bit much at first. Don’t forget to tell me how you’re feeling.”

Harry nodded again, holding up one finger. He had insisted on maintaining a non-verbal method of checking in during these types of sessions, not wanting to break character if he could help it. They had settled on simple hand gestures, holding an additional finger up for each level of awareness needed. A ‘three’ was similar to a yellow in the traditional traffic light system, and if all four fingers and thumb were displayed, then Mycroft would put an immediate halt to his actions. Not that a full stop had ever been employed, but then, they hadn’t exactly dealt with such heightened emotions before, either.

Harry nudged at one of his hands with his nose and pointedly glanced at the gag still sitting on the table, looking down at Mycroft hopefully. His Master stood with a little chuckle and reached for it. “Not just yet, sweet pup. I’d like to hear your lovely noises for a little while.” He took the straps off the rubber bone, waggling it in front of Harry’s face enticingly. “But you can chew on it for a bit, if you like.” Harry snapped at it, closing his teeth around the end and growling as Mycroft laughed and tugged on the bone playfully.

“That’s it.” Mycroft laughed again as Harry snarled a little louder and pulled harder. “Still plenty of fight in you...” He hummed and clasped his pup’s chin in one hand, tilting his face up. “I think I’d like to lick some of that fight right out of you, darling. What do you think about that, hm? Would you object to Master making a bit of a meal out of that fine arse of yours?”

Harry’s entire body shook violently, and he nearly dropped his bone. When he had regained some semblance of independence from his traitorous body, he nodded vigorously, a tiny bit of drool wending its way from the corner of his mouth. Mycroft hummed again and took up the dressing gown that had been discarded, spreading it out on the table. Harry stood as his Master gestured at him, raising one knee to climb up onto the table, but Mycroft halted him with a hand on his chest, taking up the small leather strap and fastening it securely around his pup’s cock and bollocks, making his entire package stand up even straighter.

Mycroft caressed him idly, smiling wickedly as Harry’s body trembled at his touch, as the bone quivered in his mouth and once more threatened to drop from his clenched teeth. “So beautiful. Oh, how I’ve missed this. Now, up with you. Make sure you spread yourself nice and wide.”

Harry obeyed, like the good little pup that he was, climbing up on the table and crawling over his dressing gown, sticking his arse up and head down. Mycroft smiled as he heard the thunk of the rubber bone hitting the table’s surface, as Harry’s heavy pants for breath reached his ears.

Mycroft reached for the scotch that he had set aside earlier, settling down in his chair and pulling it closer to the table. He simply sat there for a while, sipping at his drink and watching in between his supplicant’s thighs as a steady trickle of pre-come oozed from the head of Harry’s prick and dripped down onto the cloth underneath him. He reached out to run his hand over the back of one trembling thigh, up and down and in between, rubbing over the bollocks that were pulled up tight, held in wary anticipation.

He tapped gently at the little furl of puckered flesh that was waiting for him, grinning as it twitched and fluttered under his gaze. “My lovely pup. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Taking a mouthful of scotch, Mycroft swallowed and then swiftly leant forward, pressing the flat of his tongue directly on his target.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip back to Greg's for Eggsy's first lesson, and a bit of a revelation that makes Greg a very happy man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greggsy! Yay!
> 
> Now for a bit of Daddy kink... 
> 
> Please comment, I do so love to know what people are thinking.
> 
> Kisses, all.

Greg settled back into the seat cushions with a quiet sigh, closing his eyes and smiling ruefully as he felt Eggsy shifting nervously beside him. “May have fucked it up by being all butch n’shit, hm?” He took in a deep breath and pushed it out heavily. “Couldn’t stand it, the way he was talking to you, like he owned you or something. Fucking twat.”

Eggsy laughed quietly as he pulled an antiseptic wipe out of the first aid kit, dabbing at the wound above Greg’s eye delicately. Greg hissed with discomfort but didn’t squirm overmuch, keeping as still as possible as a plaster was applied. It would most likely need to be switched out before too long as he’d always been a stellar bleeder and alcohol generally increased the flow, even though he hadn’t consumed an inordinate amount this particular evening. But he could tend to that himself once he got home and settled into his empty bed, as the lad would no doubt not want to spend the rest of his evening tending to a doddering old fool who had taken a rather stupid risk to protect him. Especially since the lad didn’t need protecting - he was grown, and apparently part of some secret spy organisation. No doubt he’d received extensive training. Greg shook himself slightly. Shit, he really had overstepped his bounds, hadn’t he?

Greg sighed again as he felt fingertips combing through his hair gently, quickly falling into a lull as his mind kept spinning. God, that really had been _stupid_. If he’d been caught, if it had come out that one of the Met’s Detective Inspectors was brawling in the street over a bit of arse - unquestionably fine as it was - Jesus fuck, he would have gone down in a blaze of fucking glory, wouldn’t he? No, perhaps it would be best if George just dropped him at home and then took Eggsy back to wherever they were playing their little spy games. Oh, but his pal Harry wouldn’t be there, would he?

No, Greg had recognised that look in Mycroft’s eyes as soon as they had fixed on Harry’s face. That hungry but oddly satisfied look, the one that told him who his quarry was and that he was all but captured already. The look that he thought might have been directed at him once or twice, but had faded so quickly that he knew it must have been an illusion. No, Harry would most certainly be occupied himself tonight, and perhaps even into the morning. The same way he had found himself hoping that he would be occupied, but no, that was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

He heard Eggsy laugh again beside him, but refused to open his eyes. If he pretended to be asleep, the lad would have no choice but to leave him be. Right?

“I know what you’re thinking, mate.”

Greg sighed again. “Oh, do you?”

“Yeah. You’re thinking that was idiotic and foolish, and that I shouldn’t have anything further to do with you.” Greg cracked open one eye and quirked an eyebrow at the young man, who grinned at him in return. “Now do you want to hear what I’m thinking?” Greg conceded with a little nod and and hand gesture that clearly indicated, ‘go on’. Eggsy moved, swift and sure, straddling Greg’s lap and placing his hands on his shoulders. His back arched slightly as Greg’s hands automatically came up to grasp at his waist. “I’m thinking that I was promised a lesson, and that I’d very much like for you to make good on that promise.” He leant in, nosing around Greg’s ear and pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his neck. “I’m thinking that yes, it was stupid, but it was also possibly the sweetest and quite definitely the hottest thing that anyone has ever done for me. I’m also thinking that holy Christ, but you turn me on.”

Greg blinked rapidly as Eggsy pressed his body in close, a lovely hard weight grinding into his belly as he writhed atop him. He huffed a hot breath over his neck, and Greg groaned quietly as he slipped one arm around the lad’s waist and pulled him in closer, his own prick beginning to fill out against his tight little arse. Eggsy groaned in return and writhed harder, clearly relishing the feel of it buried in his cleft. Greg felt his head spinning with a lack of blood to the brain, but decided to take a risk, to find out if his dirty little imaginings from earlier in the pub would prove in any way true.

He nuzzled into Eggsy’s neck in return, licking up over his ear. “Oh, but you’re a lovely boy, aren’t you? Beautiful and obedient, just like Daddy likes.”

Eggsy stiffened abruptly, and Greg was ready to defuse the possible bomb with ‘oh, I was just playing games, no big deal, don’t let it freak you out’, but then the body atop his absolutely melted into him with a heart-rending moan, and the lad was babbling quietly under his breath about wanting to be a good boy, about wanting to make Daddy happy and Greg was suddenly hard enough to cut motherfucking _stone_.

“Yes, that’s lovely, my sweet. I know you’re going to be very good for me, and I promise you that we will play all kinds of wonderful games together. But first you have to behave and be patient. I have a lesson for you, remember?” Greg smiled as Eggsy sat up, his eyes blinking rapidly as he came back into himself. “Yes, that’s perfect. Now sit down next to me and let me calm down a bit, yeah?”

Eggsy nodded and slid smoothly off of his lap, resuming his own seat with a little wince of discomfort. Apparently, Greg wasn’t the only one who could suddenly moonlight as a quarry worker without the aid of any mechanical equipment. The lad took in a deep breath and clenched his fists on his knees, deliberately staring straight ahead. “Yes, sir.”   

Greg nearly groaned again, holding it back with his teeth buried in his bottom lip as his back arched slightly. Eggsy threw him an amused but tormented look, smiling as Greg reached out to stroke his leg gently. They both sighed and quivered with excitement as the car came to a stop, Eggsy damn near vaulting out of his seat when the door opened. Greg took in a deep breath and followed, turning to George with pink cheeks.

“Ah, Eggsy here is just going to see to my bandage, make sure my bell wasn’t rung too hard and all. I’ll see him off safe, you can go back to wherever it is that Mycroft summons you from.”

George shook his head with a bemused glance between the two men. “No lasting injuries, if you please, gentlemen. I would so hate to have to explain that to Mr. Holmes.”

“No worries, mate.” Eggsy tipped a truly wicked wink at the driver and turned the full force of his crooked grin on Greg. “Former gymnast. I’ll be sure to stretch properly beforehand.”

Greg swayed, subconsciously reaching out to George for support. “Oh, sweet motherfucking Christ. Maybe you better phone in the morning, make sure I haven’t been whisked off to some higher plane of existence.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes as George chuckled, and reached out to tug at Greg’s sleeve. “C’mon, you melodramatic bastard. Unless you actually want to see me on my knees in the middle of the pavement...”

Greg growled quietly. “Do not _tempt_ me, lad.”

George shook his head disbelievingly at the both of them and dove back into the car before either of the men could point another saucy wink or wicked grin in his direction, resolutely pulling away almost before his door had even shut securely.

Greg sighed as Eggsy immediately tucked himself in close, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him in the direction of his block of flats. The older man took advantage of the support the lad was offering as his head was still spinning a bit, throwing his own arm over his shoulders. They received quite the dirty look from the old biddy that lived one floor below Greg’s flat, but when she took note of the plaster over his eye and the faint bruise on his chin, she clucked her tongue sympathetically and let them pass without any further comment, non-verbal or otherwise.

Greg raised his eyebrows as Eggsy fought to contain his giggles. “Nosy old cow is gonna tell everyone in the building that the troublemaker was fighting again. Hell of a thing - half of ‘em are afraid of me and the rest seem to want to teach me a lesson.”

Eggsy reluctantly released Greg as they finally arrived at his front door and he began digging through his pockets. “Right. And how many of them had that lesson turned back on them?”

He shook his head with amusement as the older man turned a ferocious grin on him. “A fair few, lad. The rest I just threatened with my warrant card, if I even had it on me to begin with. Mycroft’s pest of a brother tends to nick it when he thinks I’m being a prat.” A bit of a wistful look came into his face. “Although I think that’s more to do with making sure that I’m paying attention to him than anything else. Sometimes I think he sees me as more of an older sibling than his actual brother is.”

“Or maybe something else?” Eggsy was squinting at him with a touch of curiosity, and maybe more than a hint of jealousy.

Greg shook his head with a rueful grin as he finally pulled out his keys. “Oh, no, lad. Not Sherlock. I don’t think he’s wired that way. He likes to make a grand show out of neglecting his ‘transport’ for simple things like food and sleep. More complicated things like love and sex? Right the hell out.” He tilted his head slightly. “Not that couldn’t change if he met the right person, but they’d have to be a bloody saint to deal with that enormous child. Throws tantrums and all. Ergh.” Greg shuddered slightly and unlocked his door, reaching inside to flip on the lights before waving Eggsy in first.

The lad stopped in the middle of the sitting room, turning around to take in all of Greg’s humble domain, the kitchen off to the left and the short hallway beyond that, obviously leading to bedroom and bath. Greg shrugged idly. “Yeah, I know it’s not much. The ex-wife - alimony and all that...”

Eggsy returned his shrug. “Still better than council housing, though.”

Greg winced slightly and turned to hang his suit jacket on the coat rack next to the door. He didn’t get the chance as that was when Eggsy moved, neatly pinning his back to the wall and leaning in for a kiss. It was a bit clumsy and more than a bit awkward, but the lad made up for it with sheer enthusiasm, eagerly pressing up against him and making low noises of need deep in his chest. Greg reached up to clasp his face in both hands and deliberately slowed the pace, tilting his head and moving his mouth against Eggsy’s gently, surely. When the young man parted his lips to take in a sudden breath, Greg swept his tongue over his bottom lip and waited for that beautiful mouth to open just a bit more. Once again moving slowly and carefully, he probed delicately until he felt the tiniest bit of suction on his tongue, swiftly deepening the kiss and sucking back.

He mentally high-fived himself as he felt Eggsy’s legs go weak, the lad clutching at his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. But then that uncertain wobble turned into a definite downward movement, the young man clearly intent on going to his knees, and Greg abruptly pulled away and grabbed hold of Eggsy’s arms, keeping him on his feet.

“When are you expected back?”

Eggsy’s eyes darted to his mouth as he licked his lips. “Not till Monday.” He whined slightly and squirmed as Greg tightened his hold.

“Then that gives us tonight and all of tomorrow, if you’re wanting to stay.” Greg smiled gently. “Plenty of time to do it right, don’t you think?” He pushed him away firmly. “Let me give you a proper lesson.”

Eggsy moaned, but bit it back quickly, once again proving himself to be the obedient boy that he knew Greg wanted. “Yes, sir.” Although he couldn’t help a bit of a petulant tone sneaking in and he winced slightly at the sound of it.

Greg merely chuckled and nodded in the direction of the sofa. “Go on, kick off your shoes and make yourself comfortable. I need to fetch a few things.” He cocked his head and flickered his eyes up to Eggsy’s head. “And no hats in the house, young man.”

The silver-haired man once again congratulated himself as Eggsy shuddered delightfully at the stern tone in his voice, his green eyes going wide as he snatched the cap off his head without delay. Greg took the opportunity to finally hang up his jacket and toe off his own shoes, leaving them at the base of the coat rack. He looked back as he passed through the kitchen, noting with pleasure that the lad had neatly hung his cap and was arranging his own shoes next to his.

He paused briefly to pour himself a glass of water, sucking half of it down before ducking into the toilet and gathering up a few supplies. He refilled it on the way back, dumping his armload of goodies on the coffee table and handing the water to Eggsy, who had settled on the far side of the sofa. He drank about a quarter without comment, eyeing the items with curiosity and suspicion.

Greg chuckled quietly and sat down sideways on the other end of the sofa, patting the space in between his thighs lightly. “Come sit here, lad. Snuggle with the old man for a bit.” Eggsy let out a tiny squeak of surprise and moved to comply, instantly settling down with his back against Greg’s chest with a happy little sigh. Greg wrapped both arms around him and simply held him for a minute or two, burying his nose in the lad’s neck and breathing him in. “Oh, yes, that’s lovely, in’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Eggsy ran his fingers over Greg’s knees and thighs idly. “You’re so warm and comfy.” Greg chuckled again as the fingers squeezed one of his solid thighs. “And _fit_ , oh God...”

Greg cleared his throat quietly. “Before we go any further, before we start playing any games, I need to make one thing perfectly clear.” Eggsy stiffened slightly, but stopped caressing and squeezing, indicating that he was listening. “This is part of your lesson, too. Above all, Eggsy, you must remember that consent is key. For us right now, for any future encounters with anyone else, you must know absolutely that your partners and even you _yourself_ are fully aware and fully consenting. If I do anything - and I mean _any_ thing - that makes you uncomfortable, you must tell me right away. Even if you’re not really sure. Even if it’s just one little thing that made you twitch the wrong way. Even if it’s something that you think you can push through. I won’t hold you back from making progress if the end result is something that you really want, but I must know so we can work through it together, yeah?” He pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Eggsy’s neck. “You get what I’m saying, lad?”

Eggsy nodded decisively. “I do, sir.” He wriggled against Greg’s body gently. “I promise you that I will tell you if anything comes up that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yes - that’s perfect. Oh, you’re such a good boy.”

Eggsy wriggled again, a childish giggle bursting from his lips. “Thank you, sir.”

Greg grinned wickedly from behind him, slowly moving his hands up the lad’s taut torso. “Maybe in a bit we’ll see about you calling me Daddy, hm?”

 _“Nghk.”_ Eggsy stiffened and shuddered, his breath seeming to come to a stop before he was able to force it out again. “Ah, ah _God..._ ”

“In a bit, lad.” Greg stroked him calmly. “Shh, now... That's right...” When Eggsy’s breathing had steadied somewhat, even though his body was still held a little tense, Greg took in a breath and let it out slowly. “So. I imagine that you’ve had a bit of experience with the fairer sex already.”

He smiled at the tinge of red that bloomed over the back of the lad’s neck. “For a few years now, yeah.”

“Anyone steady?”

Eggsy shook his head. “Not more than a couple of months, anyway. Too many blokes for them to choose from, they always wanted to be able to play the field a bit.”

“Sorry to hear that, lad.” The young man shrugged, idly running his fingers over Greg’s legs. “All right. So in all that time, was there one trick that worked for all of them?”

“You mean...” Eggsy tilted his head back and glanced up at him awkwardly. “Like, brought them off? Just one thing? No, course not. Each one was like a different guessing game.”

Greg laughed outright, slipping his fingers under the hem of the lad’s shirt, gently swiping over the bit of flesh above his waistband. “Right, right. But the best ones were the ones that told you what to do, right? The ones who knew how they liked it, and even better yet, knew to tell you so.”

“Oh yeah.” Eggsy smirked slightly and leant back again, wriggling against Greg’s body. “Yeah, they were fun.”

“Well, blokes can be much the same. Obviously, it won’t always be quite _that_ complicated, but you can’t just assume that your - target, for lack of a better word - will be so eager to get off that you won’t have to work for it. Yeah, young guys like you are almost always raring to go and barely need a puff of breath before they’re popping off all willy-nilly, but it won’t always be like that. You’re going to have to develop a sense for it, for the ones that want to be all hot n’heavy n’aggressive, for the ones who want to be soft and slow.” Greg paused as he rucked the lad’s shirt up a bit more, tickling at his bellybutton. “For the ones who want you to take the lead, and the ones who want to see a pretty young thing like you on your knees for them.”

Eggsy swallowed audibly, the muscles in his stomach jumping under Greg’s fingers. “Yeah, I think I might have a bit of a feel for that already.”

Greg chuckled again, taking delight in the way the flesh of Eggsy’s neck rippled into stark bumps under the force of his breath. He let his fingers trace upward over the defined muscles of the lad’s torso, pushing his shirt up even further as he laid the flat of his palm on his sternum and swept it from side to side. Eggsy’s body seized for a moment, going entirely rigid as a strangled noise fought its way from between his lips. Greg hummed as he clutched him tighter to his chest.

“I guess I’m just trying to impress upon you that it won’t always be easy, lad. Even though most men are base creatures and we generally are looking to get off at nearly any moment of the day, you may still have to work at it a bit. Never take anything for granted, and don’t be afraid to ask for what the other person may want, or even tell them what you want. You won’t always get it, of course, but at least that’s a pretty fucking clear signal that you’re up for something.”

“I want to suck your cock.” Eggsy turned an adorably grumpy look on him as Greg started to chuckle madly. “Sir?”

“Good start, lad, but we aren’t quite at the technical portion of the lesson just yet.” He tilted his head toward the coffee table off to their left. “Go on and pick out two of the most important items that you will be carrying on your person from this time forward.” Eggsy let out a hefty sigh as he twisted slightly, looking over the pile and plucking out his requisite two items. He held them out on his palm and turned a questioning look on his tutor. Greg nodded with satisfaction and picked up the condom still in its wrapper, flapping it perfunctorily. “Always have at least one on hand and make sure that it in’t expired. You can still use the out of date ones for personal toys and the like, but if you want to make sure to use them for their proper purpose, namely preventing the spread of infection and preventing the possibility of bringing a new person into the world, make sure you’re within the proper date.”

“I have had sex ed, you know.”

“Uh-huh. And did they detail the proper use of these particular items for male-on-male sex?”

“Erm...”

“Right. Blokes will say or do just about anything not to have to wear one of these things, as you no doubt know. You cannot trust anything that they say, but of course you know that too. Not strictly necessary for handjobs, unless you’re trying to contain the mess. Risk of spreading infection is nearly nil, unless somebody has an open wound on their hand.  But I would highly recommend using them for oral, especially if your partner for the evening is a one-shot deal. However, the possibility of getting something from a blowjob is again very slight, so there may be a bit of an assessment required on your part. The one getting the load down the throat is the one that is taking more of a risk, obviously. Always, always, and I mean _always_ wrap it up if you’re engaging in anal sex.” Greg nodded toward his supplies, to a couple of nitrile gloves sitting atop a clean flannel. “If you’re prepping someone, glove up. In addition to the risk factor, it can sometimes be icky in there.”

_“Eurgh.”_

Greg chuckled quietly as Eggsy shuddered delicately. “Sex can be messy, lad. That’s part of what makes it so wonderful. You can also cut a glove open to use as an impromptu barrier if you decide to eat someone out.” The silver-haired man hummed as he tossed the condom packet back on the coffee table. “It’s quite the rush to have someone underneath you absolutely begging for your cock after you’ve licked them open. Of course, that’s where the second item will come in handy.”

Eggsy held up a second little foil packet. “Lube.”

“And lots of it. I imagine that you haven’t really used it before, have you? Probably just nicked some of your mum’s lotion for when you’re taking care of yourself, and the girls you’ve been with were most likely dripping for you. Handsome lad that you are and all.”

Eggsy cleared his throat a little sheepishly. “Can’t say I had a problem with that, no.”

Greg took the small packet from him. “Handy for, well, handies, and also for oral, if you find one that you actually like the taste of - helps to cover the oh-so-lovely flavour of the rubber. This one is a bit minty, nice and tingly on the dangly bits and leaves me with lovely fresh breath when the job is done.” He fought back on his giggles at the look on Eggsy’s face, his cheeks absolutely blazing as his eyes went wide and dark. “Since this is an item that you will always have in your kit, lay in a supply of these disposable packets. A bit inconvenient to have to tuck a bottle into your pocket when you’re trawling for your target in some seedy club, wouldn’t you say?”

Eggsy simply nodded, clearly beyond rational thought or even speech. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and Greg waited patiently until he had regained control over his traitorous vocal cords. “Please, sir. I would very much like to feel you on my tongue.”

 _“Nghk.”_ Greg’s head went back as his body stiffened, clutching at the lad’s torso. “Dear God almighty, but you have a _lovely_ manner, don’t you? I promise you that you will, oh yes, but first I want to see you taken care of. Make sure you have a clear head and all. Would you be all right with that?”

Eggsy nodded again with a broad smile, clearly eager to get to the ‘technical’ portion of his tutoring. “C-can I - I mean, may I, um...”

Greg smiled softly and reached up to run his fingers through the lad’s golden hair before bringing him in for a gentle kiss. “Yes, my fine and beautiful boy. Yes, you may.” He tugged at the collar of Eggsy’s shirt. “Would you like to take off these irritating clothes now? Daddy very much wants to see you. All of you.”

Eggsy slid off of the sofa without further comment, stripping out of his shirt immediately. He paused with his hand on the zip of his jeans, biting his lip as Greg looked up at him with nothing but warmth and compassion in his eyes. His impromptu tutor/Daddy figure was excited by him, the prominent bulge at his crotch told him that absolutely, but he was also patient and wouldn’t dare to step over whatever limits he happened to place on him. He could trust this man not to hurt him, unless - well - unless he _asked_ him to, of course. With that reassurance in his head, the young man drew down his zip and tugged both jeans and pants down with one decisive shove.

He stepped out of them and left the pile on the floor as he stood there uncertainly, fighting the urge to cover himself. Greg sighed and moaned all at once, and something in Eggsy’s belly felt like it gave way at the sound, his body trembling minutely.

“Truly gorgeous, my fine boy. So unbelievably beautiful and golden. So tight. Come here so I can touch you.”

“Yes, D-daddy.”

Greg stretched his legs out over the cushions of the sofa, reaching out as Eggsy sidled up to him. The lad giggled as he was pulled sideways down into the older man’s lap, wrapping one arm around his shoulders for support. Greg sighed happily into the skin of the boy’s throat, tucking his arm securely around his waist as he let his hand travel up his thigh.

“Oh, that has to be the most wonderful word...”

Eggsy pulled away with another little giggle as Greg’s fingers tripped up over his ribcage. He turned an amused look on him as he fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Daddy?”

“Oh, aren’t you the funny one.” He reached up to tweak the lad’s nipple, grinning as his body arched and a harsh gasp burst from his lips.

“Oh. Oh, _yes..._ ”

“There it is.”

Eggsy trembled against him and burrowed further into his chest, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “Yes, Daddy. Yes yes yes...” He abruptly grasped at Greg’s wandering hand, leading it toward his groin. “Please. _Please_ , Daddy.”

Greg groaned quietly and pressed the flat of his palm to the boy’s stiff prick, grinding into it subtly. “And there’s my second favourite word. Oh, if only you knew what it does to me.”

Eggsy laughed quietly and abruptly shifted, straddling Greg’s lap and grinding down into his clothed prick, already straining at his zip. “I think I have a good idea, Daddy.” He reached out for a couple of the other items that Greg had brought in earlier, a half-full bottle of lube and a clean flannel. With a little smirk, he laid the flannel down over Greg’s belly, protecting his shirt from any potential mess. Then he pressed the bottle into Greg’s hand, bending down to kiss him nearly cross-eyed. “Please, Daddy. Touch me. Make me feel good. Really good.”

“Oh, I will, my sweet boy. But first...” Greg popped the cap and simply drizzled a little of the lube over the flushed head of Eggsy’s prick as it bobbed up gently against the lad’s belly. “Show me how you like it. I want to watch for a bit.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gives Harry a reward for being so good...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless dirty smut. That is all, and I make no apologies. So here we have Mycroft and Harry once again, having a bit of fun as Master and pup.
> 
> An additional chapter of Greggsy Daddy kink soon to follow... :)
> 
> Kisses, all - please let me know what you think!

Harry yelped quietly, both at the contact and at the tingle of the alcohol that was lingering on Mycroft’s tongue. Mycroft growled mindlessly and pulled him closer, simply burying his face in between his cheeks, attacking his sensitive flesh with teeth and lips and tongue. Harry yipped and barked and snarled with abandon, somehow just managing to keep his volume to acceptable levels.

Mycroft suddenly pulled away with a heartfelt sigh, bending down to wipe his chin with the edge of Harry’s dressing gown. He once again took up his glass and had another small sip of scotch, running his free hand up the back of his pup’s thigh. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, my sweet. I quite lost my senses for a moment there.” He hummed as Harry whined, pressing his chest down into the table and wiggling his hips invitingly. “In due time. Although you are just as delicious as I remember, there’s no reason not to behave in a civilised manner about this.”

He took another sip of his drink, sighing heavily. “And if this is to be the last time, I certainly would like to take some time in order to savour my meal.” Mycroft smiled thinly at the look that Harry cast over his shoulder at him. Sometimes, of course, it was rather inconvenient to act as a dumb beast, wasn’t it? “Oh, that truly was a deafening eye-roll, my dear. Should I assume that means that I’m back in your good graces and that perhaps I will be invited back for dinner at some later date?”

There was another wiggle and low whine before Harry suddenly and rather conveniently became distracted by his rubber bone, settling down to chew at it vigorously. Mycroft shrugged to himself. He supposed that the question had been rather presumptuous, and even if Harry could talk in his current state, he still might not have had an answer for him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his pup’s antics with his toy as he continued to run his hands over his backside, finally leaning back in and proceeding to lick him open once more. He alternated slow, broad sweeps of his tongue with tiny, darting thrusts, adding in the occasional filthy wet kiss, making low noises of appreciation deep in his chest all the while.

Mycroft leant back, reaching out with both hands to grasp at Harry’s arse-cheeks, humming at the sharp whimper and visible tremor that his touch induced. He sighed gently as he tugged in opposite directions, his prick throbbing insistently as the delicate little pink bud of Harry’s entrance unfurled for him. “Oh, such a lovely beast you are. You’re very nearly ready for me, I believe.” He blew a warm gust of breath over Harry’s trembling thighs, reaching between to stroke his bound prick from root to crown with long, firm pulls. He hummed again as he put his fingers to his mouth, wet with his pup’s pre-come. “So tasty...”

He frowned slightly as he felt an indistinct buzzing at his trouser pocket. Damn. He had forgotten to tuck his phone away in his suit jacket, and of course he couldn’t ignore it. He did still have a nation to run, after all. Harry cast another look over his shoulder, this time one of inquisitiveness, and Mycroft quirked an eyebrow with a little tilt of his head as he extracted the interfering device. “Just a moment, my dear. I do apologise for the interruption.”

Harry shrugged idly and went back to worrying at his bone, but his apparent indifference didn’t fool Mycroft in the least. He smirked slightly before reading the text, noting with interest that it was from his driver George.

_‘Delivered both packages to Lestrade’s flat. Overheard something vague about a lesson. Thought you might like to be informed.’_

“Oh dear.” He slid the phone over the surface of the table so Harry could read the message on his own. His pup sat back on his heels abruptly, his eyebrows drawing together with consternation. “Oh come now. Wasn’t it you who was extolling the virtues of my silver-haired colleague not all that long ago? Surely you are aware that your protégé is in very capable hands. But perhaps you’d like to listen in to make sure?” Mycroft smirked at the look of exasperated disbelief that crossed Harry’s face. “Of course I have him bugged, my dear. Did you honestly expect otherwise? Ears only, unfortunately.” He retrieved his phone and tapped his chin with it briefly. “I may have to amend that, considering these new developments. Your young friend is rather attractive, even if he was wearing a rather atrocious outfit. I do hope that you’ll be correcting his horrendous fashion sense along with his other lessons.”

Harry smirked slightly, unable to hide his agreement. Mycroft reached up to scratch him under the chin, tugging gently on the collar. “So? Do we listen in, then?” Harry looked down at himself, at his bound prick standing to attention, at the wet patch of his pre-come that had already been collected by his dressing gown. He frowned fiercely and crouched down again, once more deliberately wiggling his bottom in his Master’s face. Mycroft chuckled and leant in to deliver a swift bite to one cheek. “No, you’re quite right. I completely agree. Right now, this should be just for us. Perhaps we’ll save it for a little after-dinner entertainment, yes?” He tucked his phone away again, silently praying to a deity that he did not believe in for at least one hour free of any more interruptions.

Harry gave an enthusiastic if gently-tempered bark, snarling as he once more attacked his rubber bone. Mycroft blew a soft breath over his pup’s loosened arsehole, murmuring soothing noises as Harry’s body quivered and broke out into gooseflesh. “Oh yes, just a tiny bit more, I think.” He once again commenced his actions, carefully and joyfully eating his pup’s arse until the poor creature was reduced to a quivering mass of jelly spread out over his stately dining table.

Mycroft stood as Harry shook uncontrollably, high whining whimpers being forced from between his teeth, still clenched around that rubber toy. He fastidiously pushed his chair back into place before walking around the table, positioning himself near Harry’s head. His pup perked up slightly as Mycroft’s hands went to his belt and zip, unfastening both and pulling out his hard cock. He gestured as Harry wriggled slightly, wagging his non-existent tail as he eagerly opened his mouth, dropping his bone and letting his tongue hang out.

“Get it nice and wet, my sweet. Your saliva is all we have to hand at the moment, and I don’t want it to be rough for you. Not _too_ rough, mind you.” Harry gave a sharp yip of pleasure and assent, but cocked his head as he looked up at his Master quizzically. He leant in to nose at the bottom of Mycroft’s waistcoat, delicately taking the bottom hem of his shirt in his teeth and tugging perfunctorily. Mycroft sighed quietly. He may be playing at being a dumb beast, but Harry had always known just how to communicate his intent quite well without need of his voice.

“No, pup. It has been a very long time since the last time you took the whole of my figure in, and I am not as you remember me.” Mycroft fidgeted with his watch chain in a most uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “I am not enough at ease to disrobe just yet.” The look that Harry cast him was mostly reproachful, because after all, he’d had no qualms about letting Mycroft see him fully nude after all this time. But it was also a trifle sad, and Mycroft recognised immediately that it wasn’t pity that was being directed at him for his negative self-image, but instead a desire that he be comfortable enough in Harry’s presence to reveal himself completely.

“I...” Mycroft paused, gently running his fingers through Harry’s hair and scratching him behind the ear. His pup growled quietly and pushed his head deeper into his fingers, stretching out his neck as Mycroft moved his hand lower. “If I stay - if you wish me to, of course, then perhaps I will. Please rest assured that it has absolutely nothing to do with you, my sweet doggie. You are still one of the loveliest creatures I’ve ever seen.” He let his free hand smooth down the placket of his waistcoat, idly tapping on the roundness underneath. “I’m just afraid that I won’t quite live up to your expectations after all these years.”

The look that he got for that comment contained quite a bit of anger in it to go along with the previous admonishment. Did he think his pup a fool? Of course he would have aged, did he truly think that Harry believed him to be so infallible that he would have been able to circumvent the ravages of time? Mycroft chuckled quietly and resumed his scritching. “No, I don’t think you worship me to quite that extent, Harry darling.” He sighed again. “But yes, if you permit me to stay...” There was another silent eye-roll, another tentative wiggle of a very enticing backside. “Of course.” Mycroft grasped the base of his prick and smacked Harry on the cheek with it playfully. “Now lick. Make sure you are very thorough.”

Harry once more yipped his assent, wriggling closer to the edge of the table and simply planting his nose into the neatly-trimmed patch of tight ginger curls. Mycroft chuckled quietly, his laughter swiftly turning into a heartfelt moan as Harry panted hot breath over his flesh, taking in great lungfuls of air through his nose and letting it out through his mouth. He couldn’t quite understand it, but his pup clearly took great pleasure and comfort in nothing more than breathing in his natural scent. Mycroft had always allowed this behaviour, as there was something so primal in the gesture that it made him feel irrationally powerful and quite unmistakably cherished.

How many times had Harry come home to him and simply let go of everything in his hands where he stood, dropping to his knees in front of him and planting his face in his crotch without saying a word? How many times had he fallen into a blissful slumber like that, with Mycroft arranged on the sofa with Harry’s head in his lap? Of course Mycroft often responded physically to having Harry’s oh-so-wonderful mouth so close - and his pup would eagerly and happily bring him off every time. Afterwards, when his Master’s cock had been licked quite clean and his own chin wiped off, Harry would nestle down once more and simply drift off, his lips quirked up in a soft smile, his brow free of worries.

Once upon a time, he had been this man’s comfort, his home. And if allowing him this could make up for the way he had treated him so cruelly all those years before, then Mycroft would happily submit to being sniffed up and down for the rest of his life. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair once again, pushing up with his hips as he opened his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say, honestly, he knew that there was nothing he could say or do to truly make his behaviour in any way acceptable to his former - perhaps future - lover. Could they start over again? Could he trust himself not to fuck it all up?

But then Harry glanced up at him with those gentle brown eyes, so full of the adoration that he remembered from years before, and all thought flitted from Mycroft’s mind. No use getting lost it what-might-have-beens and what-could-only-bes, when the man was here in front of him right now, his tongue lolling out and teasing lightly at the head of his prick. Mycroft grinned down at Harry as he admonished him again with nothing more than a little quirk of his eyebrow, almost hearing his voice in his head.

_‘Stop forecasting and strategising, you damn fool. For now, for today, take what I am offering. Let’s just be happy for once.’_

Mycroft nodded down at him, his fingers tightening in his hair. Harry snuffled at his pubic hair a moment longer before settling down and starting to drag his tongue over and down, working at his bollocks briefly. Mycroft’s back arched slightly as he moaned, reaching down to pull the edges of his shirt up, just enough so that his cock was fully exposed. Harry barked with delight, his hips once more wriggling as though he had a tail to wag. But he had yet to really start to lick, and Mycroft frowned down at him.

“Not too much teasing, my dear. I’ve been anticipating sinking into that fine arse of yours the whole evening, and I know you very much want the same thing. So why don’t you be a good pup and do as Master commands, yes?” Another brief smack on the cheek with the head of his prick, another solid tug at the collar, and Harry’s eyes fluttered as his body seized briefly.

He huffed out another quiet ‘woof’ and set to work, licking long wet stripes up and down, over and across. He thoroughly coated the entire length of his Master’s cock with his spit, until it was damn near dripping, until Mycroft was barely holding onto that enviable control of his, his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip as he held back on his vocalisations. Harry withdrew slightly and opened his mouth wide, swiftly taking the whole of his Master in, hitting the back of his throat and deliberately inducing his gag reflex. Harry’s mouth instantly flooded with an extra wave of saliva, and Mycroft couldn’t hold back on his low groan of pleasure, just barely keeping his hips from thrusting forward again and again.

“Enough, pup. Unless you’d prefer me to make a mess in your mouth rather than your arse.”

Harry whined out something definitively negative and withdrew, once more sticking his arse in the air and wiggling it hopefully. Mycroft took a moment to look at him, feeling his chest swell with something more intense than lust or desire. “So beautiful.” He nodded curtly. “On your feet, if you please, and bend over the table.” His pup hopped-to, sliding off the surface of the table without delay, dragging his robe over so that it draped over the side as an impromptu barrier. Mycroft allowed him a moment to stretch and shake out his trembling legs, feeling only the tiniest amount of guilt for keeping him on his knees on the hard surface for so long. After all, he had been utterly lovely up there, so eagerly and wantonly on display for him...

Harry pressed his hips up against the edge of the table and bent down over it, whining again as Mycroft reached out and grasped his waist in both hands. He stepped in closer and inserted a knee in between Harry’s thighs, pressing up and spreading them open just a bit more. His poor pup was reduced to little more than shudders racing up and down his spine and needy little whimpers as he tried to hold himself still in anticipation. Mycroft did not give him long to wait, grasping the root of his cock in thumb and forefinger, positioning himself just so before slowly and inexorably pushing in all the way.

Harry’s body jerked hard as Mycroft’s hips made contact with the globes of his arse, a quiet whimper pushing its way from his mouth. Mycroft let out a deeply satisfied noise of his own as he stilled, closing his eyes and focusing all of his attention on the place where they were joined, his prick buried deep in his pup’s arse. He could feel the faint pulse of his heart surrounding him, could feel as his heat and moisture enveloped him, somehow distinct from the pre-come that was dribbling from the head of his cock.

Mycroft waited, spreading his stance slightly and running his hands up Harry’s back. So long. It had been so long, and he felt just as wonderful as he always had, accepting the intrusion of his cock with no complaint, with only a deep sigh as his trembling suddenly ceased, as Harry simply melted into the table and waited patiently for his Master to take him. Mycroft bit his lip, blinking back an influx of emotion as his prick throbbed, demanding his attention, demanding that he move, dammit. He pushed in as deep as he could and laid his torso down over Harry’s back, reaching up to pet his head, to run his fingers through his hair.

“I am so sorry, my love.” Harry suddenly growled, a low, dangerous sound that had Mycroft tensing subconsciously before huffing out a disbelieving laugh. He tugged on his hair viciously, and his pup growled again, pushing his hips up into him. Mycroft nodded and pressed a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades. Of course. Now was not a time for words. No, now it was time for play.

Mycroft pushed himself up and immediately pulled out, his cock gliding in a slick, smooth slide as he withdrew. Once more placing the tip right at his pup’s greedy little hole, he shoved himself back in without warning or mercy. A high-pitched bark was forced from Harry’s throat as his body jolted, and he snarled eagerly as his Master pulled back again. Another swift thrust, another sharp bark, and Mycroft reached out to grasp at his collar with one hand, pulling him upright and putting his other hand over his mouth.

Harry’s mouth hung open slightly as he panted, and without thinking, Mycroft slipped two fingers in, hoping to muffle his next vocalisation. But as he drove into him once more, his pup’s teeth instinctively came down on his fingers rather hard. He reflexively tightened his hold on the collar as his hand jerked away, and Harry instantly hung his head and whined unhappily as he cringed away from him. After taking a moment to shake his fingers out, Mycroft offered them to his pup again, and Harry licked at them delicately, apologising as best he could.

“Not your fault, my sweet. I won’t punish you just for getting a little overexcited. I should have known better.” Harry nosed at his fingers, ducking his head to get it under the reach of his hand, whimpering until Mycroft scratched his head gently. Then he reached out and took hold of the rubber bone, also dragging the shoe box across the table and pulling out the straps for the gag. “I think that perhaps we should put your favourite toy to use, what do you think?”

Once again, if his pup had a tail, it would have been wagging quite vigorously. Mycroft found himself struggling for control over the overwhelming sensation to thrust madly as Harry’s body vibrated around his. He cursed quietly as his fingers feverishly worked to untangle the straps, steadfastly ignoring the laughter that Harry was holding in. He may have been a little rougher than usual as he shoved the bone back into his pup’s mouth, but the merry twinkle in Harry’s eyes only encouraged him, and he jerked the straps hard as he buckled the gag into place.

Harry whimpered with delight as he was shoved back down over the table, as Mycroft once more started to fuck into him in long, deep strokes, pulling out nearly all the way on each thrust. His pup barked joyfully with each jolt of his body, but the gag did its job remarkably well, keeping all of his noises to an acceptable volume. His high whines and needy whimpers spurred Mycroft to stronger and swifter action, one hand reaching out to tug at the collar while the other held him down quite firmly.

He was beginning to regret remaining clothed, not just because the sheen of sweat all over his body was making his suit stick to him rather unpleasantly, but because it impeded the feeling of Harry’s skin against his. He’d always had such smooth, soft skin. Mycroft stroked down the length of his spine as he continued to work his arse ruthlessly, panting out short gasps for breath as his forelock fell in his face.

“Oh, my sweet pup. This glorious body of yours... I’ve dreamt of this, you know. Having you underneath me again. You always took me so beautifully, so eagerly. Did you think of me, maybe fantasise about feeling my cock so deep inside? Hmm? Feeling it pound into you until you could barely breathe? Did you miss the stretch and burn of your hole around me?” Harry’s eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of Mycroft’s sex-roughened voice, spewing filthy words and even filthier thoughts. Mycroft smirked slightly behind him, his hips still pushing deep, his rhythm beginning to stutter. His darling doggie had always loved it when his Master’s cool composure started to break down, when he devolved into a creature of base pleasures.

“Oh, that’s it. Yes, me fucking you wide open, you always loved it and you still do, I can tell. The way your arse is clenching down around me, God you love my prick so much, don’t you, pup? You want to make me come, don’t you? Want to feel me filling you up with my seed, to mark you as mine once again. I’m going to come so deep that you’ll be feeling it drip out of you for days. Every time you move, every time you sit you’re going to feel me in you. Your arse is going to burn and ooze, and you’ll think of me and you’ll want more. Always more because you’re addicted to my cock, and you know it.”

Mycroft gasped aloud as he abruptly let go of the collar, his fingers digging brutally into the flesh of Harry’s hips. “Oh fuck. Motherfucking Christ, gonna come so hard, so deep and you - _ngh_ \- you’re gonna take it all and love every last bit of it.” The place setting on the opposite end of the table rattled dangerously as Mycroft thrust hard and deep, pausing only briefly as his cock swelled and then twitched and released, shooting hot come into his pup’s body. He shuddered and groaned and continued to fuck him hard, riding out his aftershocks with his eyes squeezed shut, flashes of light accompanying his orgasm.

Harry yipped out something high and sharp, something that sounded absurdly self-congratulatory to Mycroft’s ears. Finally the delightful heat and wet surrounding him became too much for him to take, and he abruptly pulled free from the tight clench of his pup’s body. He immediately clutched at Harry’s arse-cheeks as he stepped back, breathing hard and revelling at the wreck before him. Fucked wide open, dripping with saliva and come, his come, oh yes. He growled as Harry spread his thighs a bit wider, as he pushed his arse up, presenting himself more fully.

_“Mine.”_

Harry whimpered his agreement, writhing against his hold, trying to grind against the table. Mycroft hummed as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to contain that one bit that never seemed to want to stay put. “Quite so.” He tugged at Harry's hips, pulling him up into standing, smirking at the way his legs trembled. Mycroft turned him around and pressed a swift kiss to his jaw before gently encouraging him to lie back down on the table, his thighs spread wide.

With a wicked smirk, he quickly unsnapped the leather strap that had been holding Harry together all this time. He let his eyes go wide as his pup writhed under his gaze, licking his lips lasciviously. “Time for pudding, I believe.” Harry moaned in pure anguish, but then let out a startled bark as three fingers were shoved deep into his arse and Mycroft swallowed his cock down without delay. Harry’s back arched against the unforgiving hard surface of the table, and his thighs involuntarily tightened around Mycroft’s head, but his Master gave no quarter, ruthlessly sucking and finger-fucking him hard and fast.

So of course it wasn’t long before Harry was practically shrieking through his gag, his entire body one mass of seizing muscle, and Mycroft was striving to breathe in steadily through his nose as he drank down the copious amounts of his pup’s release. Harry quivered and shuddered and shook, letting out nonsensical noises as he came down, quiet growling snarls and high-pitched whines. Mycroft hummed around the twitching flesh nestled on his tongue as Harry’s thighs relaxed their death-grip on his head, carefully and slowly removing his fingers, wiping them on the dressing gown that had somehow miraculously stayed put.

Just as in the Kingsman’s sitting room earlier in the evening, Mycroft kept hold of Harry’s cock until it had gone soft, letting it drop from his mouth on its own. Again, he couldn’t quite justify why, other than there was something tremendously satisfying in having hold of such a vulnerable piece of flesh. That, and the fact that Harry allowed it, that he trusted him to that degree. Harry huffed out a quiet ‘woof’, pawing at Mycroft’s head and pushing his hips up slightly. Mycroft stood with a quiet groan, once more looking down at the wreck of a man spread out before him.

“You are most welcome, my dear.” The corners of Harry’s lips twitched in what might have been a grin, if only doggies could grin, of course. He struggled into a seated position before sliding off the table, finally allowing his legs to give way beneath him, sinking to his knees at Mycroft’s side and leaning against his legs heavily. Mycroft immediately reached down to run his fingers through sweat-dampened hair, giving him a comforting scratch behind the ear.

“Do you wish for me to stay?” There was another low muffled bark as the weight against his legs increased, almost knocking him off-balance. “Oh, thank you, my sweet.” Mycroft grinned down as Harry looked up at him, his eyes nearly glazed over with fatigue, a thin trickle of drool escaping from one corner of his mouth. “You are quite disgusting at the moment, though. You’ll need a bath before Master allows you up on the furniture.”

Harry huffed out a long-suffering sigh and resigned bark all at once, shakily climbing to his feet to make the ascent up the stairs to the bathroom easier. Mycroft left the gag in place for the moment, watching with more than a bit of satisfaction as Harry’s legs wobbled dangerously as he crossed the room. Then he gathered up the soiled dressing gown and the box of goodies, following behind silently.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy's lesson continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand back to Greg and Eggsy, playing as Daddy and his boy. Oooh, saucy...
> 
> :) Please comment, let me know what you think.

A swift flash of frustration lit up the boy’s face, but he once again proved how obedient he was, settling down on Greg’s thighs and taking himself in hand. He bit his lip as he looked down at his tutor, delighting in the dark heat lingering in his eyes. “Yes, Daddy.” He stroked himself slowly, throwing his head back as his fingers dipped lower, tugging on his bollocks briefly before closing his fist around himself loosely, sliding the foreskin up over the glans and back down again.

Greg groaned throatily, his fingers digging into his pupil’s thighs as he shifted underneath him. “So beautiful, oh so lovely.” Eggsy squealed quietly as Greg reached in between his legs and ran his forefinger behind his bollocks, pressing down on his perineum firmly. A steady stream of pre-come suddenly trickled from the boy’s cock and Greg groaned again, watching avidly as the clear liquid ran down his shaft and over his knuckles. “So dirty and perfect.” He ran his free hand over the taut muscles in Eggsy’s stomach, probing gently with his fingertips. “So young and fit and _hard_ , oh God...”

“Daddy...” Eggsy mewled quietly, rolling and grinding down on the hand that was still tucked up under his bollocks. “Daddy, please.” He reached out and took up the hand that was caressing him, raising it to his mouth. He smiled shyly before sticking out his tongue and dabbling it over Greg’s fingertips, eventually drawing his middle finger into his mouth and sucking on it languidly.

Greg’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes zeroed in on the lovely sight of his finger being held between those luscious lips, groaning as he felt the boy’s tongue rolling over it dexterously. He growled faintly as he hooked that finger over his teeth, pulling him down into him for a lingering kiss. Eggsy gasped into his mouth as Greg’s hand went unerringly for his cock, knocking the boy’s hand away and taking over for him. The little quivering cry that was shoved from Eggsy’s throat was swallowed up by his eager tutor as he returned his feverish kisses. Eggsy’s hips snapped as Greg’s left hand travelled even further down, his finger gently tapping at the sweet little furl of flesh that guarded his entrance. “Oh, I’m such a lucky man to have such a beautiful boy on my lap. Whaddya say, sweetheart? Are you going to let Daddy fuck you later, hm? Gonna let me feel you from the inside, all tight and hot and oh so sweet?”

Eggsy shuddered again, sweat suddenly breaking out all over his body as his hips rocked faster. “Y-yes, oh yes, p-please... Daddy, please. Want to feel you deep inside, want to bounce on your fat, hard cock oh yes just a b-bit, just a little tighter, please Daddy so close your hands are wonderful, so g-good Daddy pleaseplease _please..._ ” The lad abruptly sat up, his hips snapping desperately as he arched his back, supporting himself with one hand on the back of the sofa and the other pushing up against Greg’s leg. “Oh oh oh please...”

Greg tightened his fist and twisted his wrist, grinning fiercely as he was suddenly rewarded for his efforts, Eggsy’s entire body seizing, all of his muscles held taut and quivering as the prick in his hand jumped and released in a fine high arcing spray, most of it falling on the flannel that had been arranged so courteously beforehand. Some did splatter on his shirt and trousers, but Greg was so taken by the denouement of the boy’s performance that he honestly couldn’t be arsed to care. He gaped stupidly as Eggsy writhed and moaned and shuddered above him, his beautiful mouth dropping open as his brow cleared and his cheeks flushing the most delightful shade of pink.

“Oh. Oh, yes, my beautiful _beautiful_ boy. Oh, Daddy is so very lucky to have found such a gorgeous thing like you.”

Eggsy slumped down slightly, his languorous gaze settling on Greg’s face with a beatific smile. “Thank you, Daddy.” He let his eyes wander, his mouth pinching up with worry as he noticed that some of his mess had fallen out of the target zone. Greg cocked his head as Eggsy immediately gathered up the cloth and dabbed at the odd spot here and there, his shoulders hunching in protectively as his fingers trembled uncontrollably. “Sorry Daddy, I din’t mean to make a mess I’ll clean it up I swear it’ll be like it weren’t never there...”

Greg cleared his throat quietly and reached up to tilt Eggsy’s face to his, shaking his head slightly as their eyes met. “Hey... Accidents happen, sweetheart. I’m not going to punish you. If I was really worried about you making a mess out of my clothes, I would’ve stripped down first.” He gently took the flannel from the boy’s fingers and dropped it on the floor, pulling him down for a soft, slow kiss. “Shh, now...” Once again, Eggsy just melted into him with a low moan, more relief than anything overtly sexual in the sound. Greg hummed quietly and simply rocked him wordlessly, waiting until the lad’s shoulders had once again dropped into something easy and relaxed. “That’s it. Oh, that’s so much better.”

“You’re a good Daddy.”

Greg chuckled as the words were mumbled into his neck, nodding his head briefly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Eggsy fiddled with the top button on his shirt, his voice taking on a carefully casual tone. “How many little boys have you had before me?” He frowned slightly as Greg shifted uneasily beneath him, reaching up to caress his boy’s cheek before trailing his fingers down to the back of his hand. “How many have you taught?”

Greg tangled his fingers with Eggsy’s for just a moment, deftly undoing his top button and drawing the lad’s hand down to the next. He tapped on it and grinned as the lad sitting atop him gasped with delight and immediately started on an unbuttoning rampage. Eggsy glanced up from under his lashes as his fingers worked, biting his lip and doing his damnedest not to sound like a jealous fool as he insistently posed his question one more time.

“How _many_ , Daddy?”

Greg sighed heavily and Eggsy sat up to look him full in the face, a little surprised to see that his cheeks were blazing red with embarrassment. “Ah, actually...” The older man seemed to square his shoulders and he cleared his throat. “None. Ah - you’re the first, lad.”

Eggsy blinked and sat up further, his eyes widening in astonishment. “Nuh-uh. You’re fibbing.”

Greg frowned mightily and shook his head firmly, reaching down to tug his shirt out of his trousers. He grinned slightly as Eggsy’s eyes went a bit greedy, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips subconsciously. “I would never, ever lie to you.” He shrugged his shoulders with a little tilt of the head. “There may be some things that I can’t tell you, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise. You'll have your own secrets to keep, I imagine.” He reached up to cup Eggsy’s face in his broad hands, a swift burst of warmth flowing into his belly at the look of utter contentment in his blue eyes. “But I would never deliberately lie to you, my boy. You can trust your Daddy.”

“But... But you’re so good. You must’ve had practice.”

Greg chuckled. “No, I’m just an old man with a lot of very dirty thoughts. I - well, I imagined something like this maybe happening one day, I _hoped_ it might, but I never had the courage to act on anything like it.” He smiled up at the lad sitting on his thighs, rocking his hips up slightly. “I suppose I was waiting for the right boy to come fall into my lap and all.”

Eggsy ran his hands under the placket of Greg’s shirt, drawing it open and gasping quietly at the glorious sight underneath him. His fingers tickled idly around the edges of Greg’s nipples as he rubbed his palms over the salt-and-pepper hair. “I din’t even know.” His voice was quiet and full of wonder, but it was the voice of a man, not of a child. “I din’t even _know_ that I needed this.” He groaned as Greg’s body quivered at his touch, his back arching and pushing his chest up into his hands. “I need you, Greg.” He blinked down at that beautiful face, the deep brown eyes full of warmth and steady calm and strength and he couldn’t help but let a tiny sob break out of his throat. “God, I need more than one silly lesson and a half-arsed weekend.” Eggsy abruptly crouched down, burying his face in that gloriously scratchy-soft hair, rubbing his cheek into it. He sighed heavily, a sweet gust of breath that washed over Greg’s skin and tickled at the hair, making him shiver. “Be my Daddy, Greg. Please, I want more, I want you...”

“Ohh... Oh, my boy. My beautiful golden child.” Greg’s arms came up to hold the lad tight, rocking their bodies together. “Y’know, sometimes... Yes, sometimes things just happen the right way, don’t they? I’ve been waiting for you, Eggsy. And I think you were waiting for me, weren’t you? So yes, I’ll be your Daddy. I’ll be whatever you want and I’ll be here for you when you need me.” He tilted Eggsy’s face up to his and pressed soft kisses on damp skin, running his hands down his naked back. “It won’t be easy, love. With your duties and with my job, we may not have the time together that we want. And there will have to be rules, of course.”

Eggsy beamed at him. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Greg groaned and chuckled at the same time, his spine twisting awkwardly at the lad’s obedient tone. “Such a good boy. You like rules, don’t you? Like knowing what’s expected of you.” Eggsy nodded enthusiastically as he pushed himself up, once more looking down at Greg’s bare chest and licking his lips. He cast an inquisitive glance up at his Daddy’s face and grinned brightly as Greg nodded. “Go on, then. Have yourself a bit of fun. Daddy’s just gonna lie back and enjoy being your toy for a bit.”

Eggsy actually clapped his hands with excitement, reaching out to grasp the at the shirt and simply hauling Greg up by it. The older man blinked in surprise, but willingly allowed the lad to push it off his shoulders and away, dropping it on the floor. He was abruptly shoved back down, and he wriggled obligingly, getting down flat on his back and putting his hands behind his head. He stretched himself out for his boy’s exploration and enjoyment, simply taking pleasure in the look in his eyes and the feel of his hands on him.

His fine, strong fingers trailed over Greg's torso in broad gentle sweeps, his palms caressing his sides as his body arched and a low moan reverberated through his chest. Eggsy sighed, his eyes wide with delight as the muscles in his Daddy's stomach pulled taut, riding out another minor quake in the body underneath him. Greg's eyes focused intently on the boy's mouth, where just the very tip of a very pink tongue was sticking out from between his plush lips.

With a faint growl, he slid his hands from behind his head and reached up to pull the lad in by the back of his neck, licking and nibbling on that luscious mouth. Eggsy moaned and gave in beautifully, returning his Daddy's attentions and giving back just as good as he was getting. He finally pulled away with dazed eyes and a little exasperated sigh, shaking his head and pushing against Greg's chest.

" _Naughty_ Daddy. You said you were going to let me play..."

"Couldn't help myself, son. You looked so tasty sitting on top of me like that. I just had to have myself a little sample of the goods."

Eggsy blushed prettily as he wriggled further down Greg's legs. "Well, since you've had your taste, maybe now you'll let me have one?" He sat up again and levelled an accusatory finger in his Daddy's face. "If you think you can behave for one bloody minute."

"Language, young man."

 _"Nghk."_ Greg once more had to stifle a wild grin as the stern tone in his voice made the boy's body seize, even as he tried to look contrite and obedient all at once.

"Oh, it's almost _too_ easy..." Eggsy shook his head with a tiny rueful grin, clearly getting himself back into character as he waggled that mockingly stern finger in his Daddy's face again. Greg nodded, shrugging idly. "I can make no promises, but I will try very hard to contain myself.” He reached up to caress his boy's cheek. "I don't want to spook you, or push you into moving too fast. Only what you're comfortable with, lad. Don't you forget that."

"No sir. I won't forget."

Greg tilted his head and smiled softly. “Are you sure, son?”

Eggsy rolled his eyes and sighed melodramatically. “Yes, I’m sure.” His lips twisted as he started to crouch lower. “I know that you’re just being a good Daddy and trying to look after me, but I am big enough to know what I want. I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to. I swear.” He ducked his head down and darted his tongue over one dusky nipple, grinning wickedly as Greg sucked in a harsh breath. Eggsy switched to the other side and placed his lips over the puckered nub of flesh, sucking languidly. “Oh, Daddy... You taste _good_.”

With that, he began to move ever downward, sliding his face from side to side, licking here and nibbling there, rubbing his cheek into any hair he encountered and even sticking his nose directly into Greg’s armpit once or twice, making the older man splutter and giggle. He spent an inordinate amount of time exploring his Daddy’s navel with teeth and tongue, his green eyes twinkling merrily at every twitch of Greg’s skin, at every bitten-back curse that was forced from between his lips.

Greg reached down to run his fingers through the boy’s golden hair, his body jerking once again as his warm breath washed over the sensitive skin of his belly. Eggsy chuckled quietly as he sat up slightly and reached for Greg’s belt buckle. “I think that Daddy might be a bit ticklish...”

Greg tried to frown sternly, but broke out into a fresh bout of giggles as the fingers that had been working at his belt suddenly dug into his sides, wriggling madly. The convulsion of his body nearly threw the boy off his legs, and he yelped quietly, clamping his thighs down firmly. Greg subsided, wiping away a small tear as his body quieted. “Maybe. I’ll say no more except that perhaps that can be explored a bit later, eh?”

Eggsy merely nodded, his trembling fingers once again back at the zip of his Daddy’s trousers, working it down slowly. Greg bit his lip as the boy’s eyes fluttered uncertainly, as he appeared to steel his resolve, going up on his knees and shuffling backwards in order to pull both trousers and pants down and off. The older man obligingly lifted his hips to aid the lad in his mission, placing one foot flat on the floor and bending the other at the knee. He again spread himself out for Eggsy’s appreciation, no trace of bashfulness in his face as he held his gaze steadily.

“Oh, _Daddy..._ ”

Greg’s lips twisted ruefully as he patted his belly, deliberately pinching and jiggling it. “Not as tight as I used to be.” He eyed Eggsy’s body up and down lasciviously. “Nothing like you, my fine boy. God, but you’re beautiful.”

“Daddy, don’t be silly.” Eggsy clambered back onto the sofa on his knees, running one hand up Greg’s leg, from knee to upper thigh. “You’re lovely.” He bit his lip as the muscle under his hand flexed. “ _Unf_. Solid and _strong_ , utterly perfect. The most perfect Daddy ever."

Greg's blush renewed itself furiously, and he cleared his throat as the boy's eyes bored into him. “Did a bit of footie in my day. Still pick up a game every now and again, but most of my exercise these days is done by running after Sherlock.”

Eggsy’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “Don’t care about stupid old _Sherlock_.”

Greg grinned, immensely amused to find his belief in the boy’s tendency toward jealousy confirmed without a doubt. Handy information, that. “Ah. Well, you know how it is. Have to look after him, don’t I? I mean, it’s more or less my job these days.”

“No, you’re gonna look after me now. Stupid what’s-his-face can go hang. Him and his stupid big brother with his stupid crush on you.”

“Hey now. You don’t know that.”

“Do so. I could tell. The way he was looking at you, the things he was saying. I could hear him, y’know. Making fun of you pulling the shop boy. He only did that because he wants you. If he din’t care, then he would’nt’ve said anything, yeah? And he’s having a suit made for you. A Kingsman suit - they’re _special_. ‘s obvious, really. Obvious and _stupid_ and he has a funny pinched-up face. I hate him.”

Greg blinked in stark disbelief, his lips pulling down into a disapproving frown. “Eggsy, I’ll not tolerate you saying things like that. You don’t even know him, or his brother, and hate is a very strong word. They are prats, I’ll grant you that, but...”

“I know enough. I know he wants you, but you’re _mine_ now and he can’t have you.” The lad scowled, but Lord help him, the fierce expression on his face was so blasted adorable that Greg damn near choked on his laughter. The scowl deepened as Eggsy’s lovely green eyes narrowed in calculation. “Would those stupid posh prats do this for you?” He ducked down abruptly, licking one long wet stripe up the underside of Greg’s cock.

 _“Ah!”_ Greg’s back arched as all of the breath was forced from his lungs. Once his body was under his control again, he glanced down at Eggy’s triumphant grin, once more fighting his giggles. “Um. I can say with a certain amount of confidence that no, they would not.” He hummed as Eggsy started to stroke his bollocks with a maddeningly light touch, tweaking and pinching and rolling them in his fingers. “Ah God. I don’t think that Sherlock would ever want to soil his precious transport, and Mycroft - oh sweet Jesus - I think that Mycroft probably likes being the one in control most of the time.”

Eggsy’s fingers wrapped around Greg’s shaft, giving it a firm squeeze. His eyes widened slightly at the heft of it in his hand, and his lips parted to let out a soft sigh. “Oh? And you think I’m not in control right now?”

Greg huffed almost silently. A quick study, indeed. “That’s not exactly what I meant, lad. Not that he wouldn’t do something like this, just that he might not be so - enthusiastic about it. It might be more like he was doing someone a favour, you get me? Not because he really wa-wa-wanted to oh sweet _bleeding_ Christ...”

Eggsy giggled around his considerable mouthful of flesh, pulling off with an audible pop. “Daddy’s got a bit of a mouth on him, don’t he?”

“Oi, you listen here, you little shit...”

“Naughty!” Eggsy giggled again and ducked down to really set to work, licking around his Daddy’s bollocks and the base of his cock before stroking him gently, mouthing at the glans uncertainly. He felt a swift surge of pride as Greg’s head went back and his back arched, and he couldn’t resist looking up from under his lashes as his Daddy looked down at him. His chest warmed again with something he couldn’t quite pin down as those dark eyes caught his, full of lust and fire and fierce - something. It was an expression that he couldn’t quite place, not love, no, not yet, but something proud and protective and possessive all at once and maybe he couldn’t put a name on it other than it was something that he needed, something that he didn’t even know existed, but here it was and it was focused on him, and oh God it felt so right and so damn _good_.

“Oh, my fine, beautiful boy. Look at you. So lovely with your sweet mouth wrapped around Daddy’s cock like that. I think that you can maybe take a little more, don’t you?” Eggsy felt his cheeks warm as Greg ran his fingers through his hair and tilted his hips upward just a fraction. “Want to try, sweetheart? Yes, I know you do...” Keeping one hand firmly clenched in Eggsy’s hair, Greg reached down and squeezed the wrist of the hand that was still wrapped around his shaft. “Let go, honey. That’s it, take my hand, you hold on to me as tight as you need to... Now open your mouth a bit wider and just relax. Oh, oh yes. There we are.” He withdrew as Eggsy choked slightly, immediately pushing back in as the lad took in a deep breath. “Perfect. Oh, you’re going to be _so_ good for Daddy, aren’t you? Just _look_ at you... Already taking my cock like a champ.”

Eggsy blinked the tears from his eyes as his Daddy continued to rock his hips, not driving in too quickly or too deep, not yet. No, he could tell that he was holding himself back, striving to maintain control as his boy quietly struggled to accommodate taking his thick shaft into his mouth, into his throat. He knew that if he pulled away, Greg would let him go, that he wouldn’t force him to do anything that he didn’t want to do. But he wanted this, he really did, and so he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing and the feeling of that slick skin sliding in and out, the smell of his Daddy and the taste of him. Eggsy swiftly found that if he focused on sensation alone, if he allowed his brain go a bit offline, he was somewhat able to override his body’s urge to gag.

So he focused on all of those things, on smell and taste and the sounds of his Daddy’s grunts of pleasure, his short gasps for breath as his pace quickened slightly and as Eggsy let his throat relax even further, Greg cursed quietly and began to use him in earnest, driving in straight and true and oh-so-deep. Eggsy blinked rapidly and opened his eyes wide just in time to watch as Greg’s mouth dropped open and his face twisted up in a grimace that looked like pain, but oh it was pleasure, he knew it was, because the thick flesh that was rammed into his throat jumped and twitched and his Daddy was coming, coming down his throat and into his mouth. Greg pulled out as Eggsy’s face twisted up with its own grimace, laughing quietly as he groped about on the floor and eventually came up with the flannel, putting it to his boy’s mouth.

“Go on, spit. I won’t be mad. I know it’s a bit much to take at first, and Daddy does drink far too much nasty black coffee.”

 _“Bleah.”_ Eggsy looked up sheepishly as Greg ran his thumbs under his eyes, wiping away all traces of his tears. “Sorry, Daddy.”

He dabbed at the corners of the boy’s mouth with a broad smile. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, you silly thing. That was amazing. _You_ are amazing and beautiful and lovely and oh you felt so wonderful around me. You did such a good job and I am so _very_ proud of you.”

Greg sighed with delight as his boy beamed at him excitedly. “I did good, huh?”

“So good, Eggsy love. Come here.” Greg discarded the flannel and held out his arms, wriggling his fingers gently. Eggsy sighed as he crawled over his body, settling down with his head on his Daddy’s chest. He writhed slightly as his Daddy wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him firmly, rocking their bodies together gently. “You know, lad, I think I just may keep you for a while.” Eggsy giggled even as his body stiffened, his prick already beginning to take a new interest in the proceedings. “You okay with that?”

Eggsy pushed into him, looking up into his face with a wicked grin. “I dunno, Daddy - whaddya think?”

Greg growled. “I think that I may start to re-think picking up a little boy before too long. Daddy won’t be able to keep up - I’ll have to satisfy you two or three times to my one!” He sighed melodramatically as Eggsy broke out into giggles. “How do you want the old man to take care of you, sweetheart? Shall we have a bit of fun with my mouth next?”

Eggsy frowned. “I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

“Oh sweet buggering bloody fucking Christ. Just fuck me sideways and leave me to bleed out on the side of the road, why don’t ya?”

“Umm...”

Greg shook his head and gave his boy another squeeze. “Sorry, son. Got a bit carried away there. I’m going to need a bit before I’ll be able to do that, honey. But we can take our time getting you ready, and I’ll get you off in the process, and then I’m pretty damn sure that you’ll be hard again before I’m done anyhow. Damn young’n.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bath-time for puppy, and a bit of a cuddle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on chapter 9 now, hoping to get it out before the end of the week, but no guarantees!
> 
> :)

Harry made a bee-line for the bathroom and immediately clambered into the tub, going to his hands and knees. He hunkered down and waited for his Master to come in, perfunctorily chewing at the rubber bone still stuffed in his mouth. Mycroft quietly tucked the dirty robe into the laundry basket as Harry looked up at him silently, his large brown eyes deep and warm, crinkling pleasantly around the edges.

Mycroft found himself a bit overcome with nostalgia, remembering the many times that they had been in this particular situation before. It was disconcerting how easy it was to fall back into old habits, settling into the familiar, comforting routines. He smirked as he recalled the times his pup hadn’t exactly _wanted_ to take a bath and they both had wound up utterly soaking wet, Harry scampering down the hall covered in suds and Mycroft chasing him around with towel in hand, laughing merrily all along the way.

Not that Harry had always gotten away with that kind of egregious behaviour, oh no. Especially after the time that he had lost his footing on the slick floor and had run into a wall quite solidly. After making sure that his pup hadn’t been permanently damaged, Mycroft had punished him rather soundly with a rolled-up newspaper. After that, any time that Master wanted swift and utter compliance, all he had to do was brandish that same bit of paper as a warning, and his pup would obey with alacrity.

It seemed that perhaps Harry was remembering their old chasing game as well, as a certain naughty gleam suddenly twinkled in his eyes. But as Mycroft narrowed his gaze, his pup whined low in his throat and dipped his head in a show of obedience. His shoulders drooped slightly, and Mycroft sighed as he removed his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door and rolling up his shirtsleeves. No, that was perhaps a game that would be best relegated to memory alone, reserved for their younger selves. He found himself to be rather tired, almost on the verge of exhaustion, and his pup was clearly showing the same fatigue. It had been a long day, and so many momentous things had happened that he knew them both to be rather overcome.

So Mycroft knew that there would be no resistance this particular bath-time, no improper acting out. Harry whined quietly as his Master unbuckled the straps on the gag, but he was shushed with a swift kiss to the temple. “If you’re good for me, I’ll let you take it to bed.” He stood at the sink and took the straps off again, giving the bone a thorough if quick scrub. Setting it aside on a clean flannel to dry off a bit, Mycroft reached up for the hand-held shower nozzle before sitting down on the edge of the tub. He started to tug on the buckle on Harry’s collar, noting with a bit of uneasiness that his fingers were trembling minutely.

Harry must have sensed that something was amiss, as he pulled away with the collar only half-undone, turning and nudging Mycroft’s side with his shoulder. The red-haired man held his hands out, spreading his fingers and watching with upraised brows as they shook uncontrollably. He abruptly clenched them into tight fists as Harry tucked his head into his side, nuzzling into him in an oddly comforting manner. Mycroft ducked down over his hunched form and held him close for a long moment, until his shaking had subsided.

Yes, they were both tired and perhaps a bit overwrought, but of the two of them, he wasn’t entirely sure who had been the most profoundly affected by their little reunion. He was used to holding his emotions close, or of denying them altogether. But here, with this impossible puppy of a man, his feelings were threatening to boil over and absolutely overwhelm him. Mycroft gasped quietly as he bent over Harry’s head, pressing his lips to brownish-grey hair that was still damp with sweat. He almost felt as though he was going mad, losing his hold on his sense of self, his grip on what he knew to be his reality slipping. Harry whined low and Mycroft focused on him, letting the warmth of the body tucked up next to his bring him up out of his head and back into the real world.

He straightened and reached for the buckle on the collar with hands that were once again steady and calm, and Harry yipped as the leather slipped from his neck, swiftly ducking his head and closing his teeth around one end. Mycroft found himself chuckling as they played a quick but decidedly half-hearted round of tug, Harry snarling happily as he shook his head. “Let go, you horrible creature.” Mycroft laughed again and ruffled at his hair as Harry let it fall from his mouth, his tongue lolling out in a brief doggie smile.

“That’s better. I can hardly bathe you with it on, and you know that I never liked the idea of you sleeping in it.” Harry ducked his head and huffed out a quiet bark, curling in on himself as his body started to tremble against the chill in the air. Mycroft frowned as he tossed the collar aside, hastening to turn on the water, testing it against his palm before turning on the shower. He quickly doused the shivering figure with pleasantly hot but not scalding water, smiling as his pup sighed in relief. “So sorry, my sweet.” He reached out for the shampoo, squeezing out a little dollop on top of Harry’s head and awkwardly working it into a lather with one hand. “It’s entirely your fault, though. Distracting me with your foolish little games.”

Harry grinned and tilted his head back, humming low as Mycroft rinsed his hair clean. He happily accepted the shower nozzle as his companion reached for the soap and a flannel, making quick work of washing his shoulders and torso. He huffed and whined again as Mycroft scrubbed him thoroughly under the arms, a bit of his characteristically naughty twinkle returning as he fiddled with the water, idly splashing in the spray cascading over his knees. Mycroft narrowed his eyes again.

“If you consider that reprehensible action for even one moment longer, I will lock you up in here for the night. Naughty doggies do not get to sleep in Master’s bed.” Harry conceded with a low growl, ducking his head in submission. “Such a good pup. Now, stick that rump of yours up nice and high so I can get it really clean.” The growl that greeted this statement was far deeper and a great deal more heated, and Mycroft felt his blood swirling at the sound of it. In years past, just that would have been enough to have him hard and wanting again, but these days... Harry smiled up at him a bit ruefully, and Mycroft knew that he was thinking much along the same lines. The spirit was clearly willing on both their parts, but the flesh was weak, unfortunately.

Mycroft returned his grin with something that he hoped was reassuring, even as he trailed the soapy cloth down the line of Harry’s spine, bypassing the crack of his arse to scrub in between his thighs. So they were older now, and perhaps not so easily primed for action. But what of it? That just meant more time for soft and slow, for dragging out the torment until neither of them could stand it any more. Fast and hard had its place, of course, but that wasn’t where they were right now. No, perhaps now was a time for more intimate endeavours.

Not that Harry showing his trust in him to such a degree wasn’t a terribly intimate and powerful thing, of course. In their youth, it had mostly been viewed as a game, as nothing but play and fun and pure physical release. But now - oh, now. Now Mycroft could recognise it as the true exercise in trust that it was, that it always had been; only _now_ he could acknowledge the extent of Harry’s love and devotion. The deeper meaning had always been there, but he had been too caught up in himself to really notice. He’d been such a fool. Such an unutterable, damnable _fool_.

Mycroft hummed as Harry’s body stretched under his touch, the muscles in his thighs tightening and trembling under his fingers. He let the cloth drop from his hand as he gathered up the suds cascading over that lovely creamy flesh, as his fingers lightly traced up the crack of that divine arse, circling the entrance that was still a bit puffy from his earlier abuse. Harry moaned and spread his legs as wide as he was able, sticking his bum up even higher. Mycroft bit his lip as he dipped the tip of his middle finger in, circling and sliding in and out in a steady if shallow motion. He grinned fiercely at the low growling snarl that echoed around the small room, withdrawing with a little sigh of regret.

He picked up the shower head and made sure to rinse everything thoroughly, raising one meticulously groomed eyebrow as Harry turned a suddenly needy and somewhat mortified look on him. Mycroft tilted his head as he ran the warm water over his pup’s lower belly and groin, nodding his head as he squirmed uneasily and let out a very specific whimper. “Go on, then. You might as well take care of it now, since you know better than to wake me to tend to you in the middle of the night.” Not that Harry had ever woken his Master in order to answer to nature’s call before - he may play at being a human doggie from time to time, but he was not a beast, and there were some clear lines that they both adhered to quite firmly.

But this was a simple enough thing, and Harry found it to be almost tremendously satisfying, even if a bit humiliating. But then, maybe that was the point, and this was an appropriate place, after all. So he straightened his back and lifted one leg, and pissed on the side of the tub. He felt the back of his neck flush with embarrassment even as the pressure on his bladder lessened, and he ducked his head low as he cast a sideways glance at his Master. Mycroft’s nose wrinkled slightly at the acrid odour, but he calmly and wordlessly hosed down both his pup and the tub until the puddle of urine and thus the smell had been rinsed away entirely.

Mycroft turned off the water and stood, reaching into the cupboard for a clean towel. He gently encouraged Harry to his feet and dried him off as best he could before ushering him across the hall and into his bedroom. He snatched the rubber bone off the countertop along the way, idly tossing it into the middle of the absurdly plush bed. Harry barked and pounced, landing with an exaggerated ‘woof’ amongst the bedding. Mycroft clucked his tongue impatiently but affectionately, smacking his pup lightly on his naked arse as he struggled to get the duvet and sheets pulled down.

Harry wriggled underneath them eagerly, turning counter-clockwise three times and then clockwise once before settling down into a tidy ball on one side of the bed. He sighed with contentment as Mycroft pulled the bedding back over him, watching with interest as his Master went to the wardrobe and started rummaging inside. Mycroft shook his head as he reached for one of the many dressing gowns on display, a tatty old blue and green tartan affair that had always been his favourite.

“I’m frankly astonished that this old thing is still in one piece.” Harry barked quietly, and Mycroft turned an amused look on him. “You always were a bit of a pack-rat, my dear.” He ran his hands over the threadbare material carefully. “Lucky for me you are. There are a lot of fond memories captured in this cloth. Never thought I’d see it again.” He crossed back to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out to brush the hair from Harry’s eyes. “Did you save it for me in hopes that I might wear it again one day?”

Harry blinked up at him serenely, his eyes going a little misty as he nudged at the rubber bone tucked in between his hands. But the only comment he made was to move his head slightly, mouthing at and then biting down on the rolled-up cuffs of Mycroft’s shirt. He tugged gently but insistently, snarling quietly. “So stubborn you are.” Mycroft held the dressing gown to his chest and stood, once more running his fingers through his pup’s hair. “Just give me a moment, then.”

He retreated back into the bathroom to tend to his own ablutions, poking around in the cupboard until he found a new toothbrush, washing his face and wiping down certain other areas as he stripped methodically. He stood back from the small mirror over the sink, biting his lip as he ran his hand over and across his naked belly. He knew he wasn’t fat, not really, but this particular piece of his anatomy _was_ significantly rounder than it had been and he was absurdly worried that Harry wouldn’t find it attractive in the least. It was ridiculous, it really was, he knew that absolutely nothing could alter his pup’s feelings for him. But enduring years of snark from his unfairly attractive younger sibling had certainly left its mark. Sherlock knew that Mycroft’s fluctuating weight was the only area in which his older brother would acknowledge any weakness, and he exploited that vulnerability every bloody chance he got, the little shit.

Mycroft sighed as he shook thoughts of his infuriating little brother out of his head, slipping the tartan robe over his arms and tying it securely around his middle. He couldn’t help but smile at himself as the well-worn flannel wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. Harry had always loved seeing him in it for some reason, the simplicity and ruggedness of the material appealing to him in some inexplicable manner. Perhaps because it was so soft and comfy that Mycroft simply had no choice but to relax into it, his stiff and prim posture melting into something a bit coarser, perhaps. At one point, he’d had slippers to match, and of course Harry had brought them to him on many a Sunday morning, either with his hands or stuffed into his mouth, depending on the mood of the day. He found himself wondering whatever became of those slippers as he turned the light off and wandered back into Harry’s bedroom. They were most likely chewed up at some point. Mycroft wouldn’t be at all surprised if it had happened shortly after their ‘break-up’.

His pup perked up slightly when he came into the room, eyeing him with a bit of that naughty twinkle and a bit more than idle curiosity. Mycroft bit his lip as he crossed to what was traditionally his side of the bed, but even though there was nothing but kindness in Harry’s eyes, he just couldn’t quite reveal himself just yet. He heard a disbelieving huff of breath as he reached out to turn off the light, but there was no overt objection. Harry knew that Mycroft would bare himself before him in his own time, and that the best encouragement that he could offer would be his patience.

Once the room was shrouded in darkness, Mycroft quickly shed the robe and tossed it on the foot of the bed, nearly diving under the covers to hide himself away. There was an immediate reaction from his pup as Harry wriggled all the way under the bedding and crawled to his side. Mycroft sucked in a gasp of air as he felt the first tentative touches, mostly a truly ice-cold nose as Harry snuffled at his skin. He bit back on a quiet yelp as that freezing point of contact circled one puckered nipple, as it trailed over and down and back up, nudging under his arm.

Mycroft giggled as Harry’s breath tickled at the hair there, as he let out an appreciative growl and inhaled him greedily. His stiff posture began to relax as Harry’s nose warmed up, as he continued to explore blindly with nothing more than his senses of smell and touch, with an occasional taste along the way. Mycroft sucked in a quick breath, subconsciously holding it and thus his gut in as his pup cautiously approached his belly. When Harry nuzzled at his navel and let out a muffled but undeniably questioning yip from under the covers, he found himself suddenly giggling rather boisterously and that of course made everything jiggle most unbecomingly.

He could feel his face flushing with embarrassment, feeling almost absurdly relieved that Harry wouldn’t be able to see his expression in the dark, to see just how profoundly this was affecting him. Not that he didn’t know, of course. Harry had always known just what Mycroft was thinking or feeling, damn the man. That obviously hadn’t changed as his pup snuffled and woofed contentedly, rubbing his cheek into the soft flesh of his Master’s belly. Mycroft sighed and reached under the covers, running his fingers through Harry’s hair and down the expanse of his naked back as he nestled closer. He settled down with his head firmly pillowed on his flabby stomach, his nose mere inches from the base of his cock.

Mycroft continued to pet him in a mesmerising rhythm, smiling faintly as Harry’s head grew a bit heavier, as his breath washed over his groin in a comforting push and pull, as calm and steady as the tide. He laid there for quite a long time, tears streaming down his face as he thought of all of the wonderful times, in the past and perhaps now in the future. He thought of how horribly he had treated his former lover, and whether he was even worthy to be in his bed again. His brain swirled with so many conflicting thoughts and ideas and the tears kept flowing and in the end he finally fell into utter blackness, his emotions in such conflict that he was quite unable to even parse out whether the tears were meant to be joyful or sad.

As it had always been in the past when he had Harry curled up next to him, Mycroft slept deeply, and he blessedly did not dream.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy gets pampered a bit, and gets a wee bit emotional...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Greggsy having a bit of fun...
> 
> Oh, I don't know... Smut, yes, but a bit of emotional mumbo-jumbo as well. Angst? Maybe - not sure. 
> 
> Kissy kissy, my lovelies.

Greg groaned as Eggsy rubbed against him again, burying his nose in his neck and breathing him in deeply. With a swift smack on one very firm arse-cheek, he struggled into a seated position and pushed at the boy perfunctorily. “We need a bit more space to get properly wriggly, I think. Get your sweet arse into my bed. Ah- wait!” Greg reached out to grab at Eggsy’s arm as he immediately slid off of him and got to his feet. He nodded down at the half-full glass of water sitting on the coffee table. “Drink that first.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Eggsy beamed at him and obeyed, wiping his mouth on his arm after guzzling it all down. “Mm, better. Thank you.”

“Oh, you are going to kill me with that voice of yours. Such a sweet thing you are.” Eggsy grinned again and swept up the bottle of lube before bolting for the bedroom, giggling madly the whole way. Greg shook his head, wondering - not for the first time - if he was really up for whatever this was that he had started. He looked down at the pile of clothing on the floor, Eggsy’s obnoxious tracksuit top and his cheap if sensible trousers all jumbled up together, and felt a decisively appreciative twitch from down below. Hm. Apparently, he would be very much up for it.

He paused in the kitchen to once more fill the glass and ducked into the bathroom for another couple of clean flannels before turning toward his bedroom and coming damn close to just dropping everything in his hands. Eggsy was already on his knees at the edge of the bed, his strong thighs spread wide as he dipped his spine and wiggled his arse invitingly. Greg growled low and stalked forward as the boy cast a coquettish glance over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes becomingly.

“And here I thought that you said you hadn’t done this sort of thing before...”

Eggsy’s cheeks blazed as he pushed himself up slightly, dropping his eyes to the mattress. “Well, when Harry told me that I might have to, um - you know, I - um, I watched some videos. Just to get an idea of what it was all about, and I, uh...”

Greg chuckled quietly as he set everything down on the bedside table, reaching out to cup one of the boy’s arse-cheeks in one broad hand. He squeezed gently, running his thumb up and down tantalisingly close to Eggsy’s little pink bud. “Gay porn can be a lot like straight porn, lad. A bit unrealistic and all that. There’s often quite a bit of preparation required, and they aren’t likely to show that on the screen and all. A bit boring, y’know? I’m not going to start pounding into you with no warning. Not just yet, anyway.” He squeezed a bit harder as the lad cast him another over-the-shoulder look, apprehensive and anticipatory all at once. “We’ll save that for after you’ve been trained up a bit.” Greg laughed outright as Eggsy’s eyebrows started to climb his forehead. “Oh yes. I’ll get you a lovely little toy you can keep to yourself, and when you know that you’ll be playing with Daddy later then you can stuff that toy up your bum so you’ll be ready for me, eh lad? That way, Daddy’ll have his beautiful boy bouncing on his cock just moments after you walk in that door. Whaddya think about that, then?”

_“Asguf.”_

“Heh. Well spoken, lad. But, like I said earlier, I won’t be up for that for a little while anyway. So why don’t you just relax a bit, hm?” He ran his hand up over the small of Eggsy’s back, rubbing firmly. The lad moaned encouragingly, and Greg instantly took the invitation, clasping him about the waist and gently manoeuvring him into lying on his belly in the middle of the bed. “There we are.”

Eggsy watched silently as Greg laid a few things out on the bedside table, all items that they had previously discussed during the first part of their ‘lesson’. Then he reached down below and pulled out a bottle of what looked like oil. Greg winked at him as he unstoppered the bottle, holding it under his nose. Eggsy pushed himself up and sniffed at it delicately, smiling as he took in a deeper breath. It was citrusy and a bit earthy, and it both cleared his mind and somehow set his blood to racing.

Greg grinned again as he trickled a little of the oil down Eggsy’s back before clambering up onto the mattress between his spread thighs. He spread it out with a light touch before placing both hands on the small of his back and leaning his weight down, rotating his wrists gently and then bearing down a little harder as he ran his hands up. Eggsy grunted and then groaned loudly as the air was pushed from his lungs. “Oh, that’s lovely. Feels good, mm, smells good. What is it?”

“Sandalwood. Just a bit, though. Just enough to give the orange a bit of spice. Always loved the way it smelled, and there’s something particularly nice about being rubbed down with oil, wouldn’t you say?”

“Haven’t had the - _hngh God_ \- pleasure before.” Eggsy groaned again as Greg concentrated his efforts on his shoulders and upper back, digging his fingers into the muscles firmly. He cast an amused look over his shoulder even as he began to melt into the mattress. “You do this sort of thing often?”

Greg trailed one finger down the line of his spine, biting his lip as Eggsy undulated underneath him, watching with greedy eyes as the well-formed muscles shifted just underneath his golden skin. “What, bring pretty boys home and rub them until they can’t move anymore and then have my wicked way with them?” He winked saucily and kneaded at the younger man’s buttocks. “Thought never even crossed my mind.”

Eggsy chuckled quietly. “So what’s the oil for, then?”

“Mostly, for myself.” Greg sat back on his heels and ran his hands down the prone figure’s thighs, rubbing lightly. Eggsy’s eyebrow quirked in a silent question, and Greg shrugged even as he blushed faintly. “You know how it can be, lad. Sometimes quick and easy is the best, for when you just want to pull one out, maybe help you get to sleep. So you go for the lotion or the lube or even just a quick lick of your palm, right?” Eggsy blushed in return, and nodded curtly. “So then there are the times that you want it to be a bit slower, yeah? Draw it out a bit, really take your time. That’s when I bring out this little bottle. There’s just something about the feel of the oil, and the smell enhances the sensations or something. It’s so smooth and slick, and I usually have to lay down a towel because I tend to overindulge, really get everything nice and wet, love the way it feels on my bollocks and trickling down into my crack. Lets me get my fingers in there nice and deep...”

“Oh sweet Christ...” Eggsy squirmed and gasped as Greg’s hands suddenly clamped down on either cheek hard, his thumbs spreading him open. “You... I din’t think you’d like - that, oh God.”

Greg hummed quietly even as his eyes blazed hungrily down at the sight before him. “Oh yes, my boy. Some daddies like to get fucked too.” He glanced up at Eggsy’s face briefly before reaching for the oil and dribbling a little right on his target. He began to run his fingers along and down, so very gently that Eggsy almost couldn’t be sure that he was touching him at all. At least, not until he pushed up slightly with his hips, and Greg began to rub just a bit harder, concentrating most of his efforts on the raised seam between his bollocks and arsehole. Eggsy groaned at both the contact and the intense look of need on Greg’s face, just the tip of his tongue poking out from between strong white teeth. The older man blew out a solid breath as he glanced up again. “I’ll let you, son. I’ll let you do anything to me that you like.” He hesitated with a little tilt of the head and a quiet chuckle. “Well, _almost_ anything.”

Eggsy writhed against the bedding, clutching the sheets in his fists as he mashed his face into the mattress to stifle his loud moan. With a minute tremor running up and down his spine, he silently brought his legs underneath him, spreading his thighs wide and presenting himself very prettily. He shuddered as Greg growled low and deep behind him, his breath washing over his exposed pucker, making his belly flutter with nerves. He turned his face so that he could breathe, pressing his cheek to the mattress. “Daddy...” His voice was hoarse with need, breathy and full of an achingly sweet surrender.

He almost grinned as he felt Greg’s body jerk hard against him, his plump but not yet hard cock pressing into the back of one thigh. There was another low growl, and a thumb circling his arsehole with almost absurd care as Greg blew another hot breath over it. “Oh yes, my beautiful boy.” Eggsy whined quietly as he felt the bed shifting behind him, and felt the rough material of a flannel wiping him down briefly. He pushed himself up and cast a puzzled glance at the man oh-so-carefully tending to him. Greg grinned as he reached for a glove and the lube. “Oil doesn’t always mix with latex, lad. Always go for lube if things are heading in a certain direction. You don’t want the condom breaking in the middle of some hot n’heavy action.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes and huffed out an impatient sigh. “Daddy, no more teaching. No more stupid lessons. Just _fuck me_ already.” Greg frowned mightily and immediately raised his hand, bringing it down on his boy’s arse-cheek hard. Eggsy yelped, but it was more out of shock than actual pain, and his Daddy’s frown deepened as he did it again and again, until his boy was holding back on his cries with his teeth buried in his bottom lip. He trembled uncontrollably as Greg backed off, finally snapping the glove on and squeezing out a healthy dollop of lube directly over Eggy’s arsehole.

Greg began to circle his entrance with a gentle but firm touch, mostly just spreading the viscous fluid around. With a tiny dip of the very tip of his forefinger, he turned a stern face on Eggsy’s watering eyes. “I’m the Daddy, and I say when lessons are over. Is that understood, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s all well and good to be a bit cheeky, it can even be rather cute from time to time. But I’ll not tolerate any backtalk or deliberately rude behaviour. Is that also understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Eggsy nodded to confirm his words, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. “I understand.”

“And?”

“A-and I’m sorry for b-being a brat. I’ll behave, Daddy. I promise.”

Greg smiled as he dipped his head down, pressing gentle kisses on the red marks his hand had left behind. “As long as I give you what you want, of course.” Eggsy quirked a little smile at him, but made a show of shaking his head. “No, I know that you want to be good for me. I was just teasing, lad.” Moving slowly, he opened his mouth wide and bit down lightly as he poked and prodded with one finger, sliding just an inch or so in and withdrawing in a steady rhythm. Eggsy moaned and lifted his rump up just a bit higher, spreading his legs just a bit wider. With a hum of pure pleasure, Greg slid his free hand down over the hanging bollocks, squeezing the base of his boy’s cock firmly.

“Ah- _hah!_  D-daddy...” Eggsy’s low moan and the nonsensical syllables that followed encouraged Greg to stroke lightly, smiling as he felt the quivering flesh surrounding his finger pulse and flutter. He pressed in a little deeper, humming as his boy’s arse began to open for him, slowly but surely. Once he had one finger firmly seated, he paused for a moment, feeling him clench down around him.

He wriggled it gently, humming again as Eggsy took in a shuddering breath. “Good, son? It doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Eggsy immediately shook his head. “No, Daddy. Doesn’t hurt. Feels - oh.” Greg watched with a bit of a smug air as the back of his boy’s neck flushed bright red as he slowly withdrew and pressed back in, deeper than before. Eggsy mewled and squirmed back against him. “Feels _good_ , oh yes. More, Daddy. Please, I need more.”

“Oh, my beautiful boy...” He withdrew and pressed in deep once more, sighing lustfully at the wondrous heat clamping down on his finger. “You’re still a little too tense at the moment to take any more, love. But I know just the thing to turn all these wonderfully tight muscles of yours to mush, and then I’ll be able to shove anything I want up there.” Eggsy moaned with disappointment as he withdrew again, obediently rolling over as Greg pushed at him gently. “That’s it. Such a good boy.” The younger man put his hand to his mouth as he immediately drew his legs up and spread them wide. He bit down on one finger as Greg went down on his belly and slowly reinserted his finger, thrusting into him deeply.

His back arched involuntarily as his Daddy winked up at him over the straining head of his cock, licking his lips lasciviously. His body stiffened even further and he let out a garbled string of curses as Greg simply swallowed him down and - oh. None of the times before had felt like this, oh no. So hot and firm and gentle at the same time, a persistent flutter of the tongue along the underside even as he sucked nice and hard. There was just something so different about it, something beyond Greg’s obvious years of experience. Desire, perhaps, or maybe enthusiasm? There had only been one girl that had really been all that eager to go down on him, and Eggsy remembered that he had come embarrassingly quick on that particular occasion. Now he realised that it hadn’t been her technique as much as it had been the sheer joy with which she had undertaken her task.

But for Greg, this was not a task, or a chore. This was a delight, and Eggsy could see it clearly on his face and shining from his eyes. It was more than just a joy, it was almost a _need_ , oh yes, and he felt so proud to be the object of this man’s hunger and desire. Proud and perhaps a tiny bit ashamed, because now he realised that his performance on the sofa earlier had been sorely lacking in any actual technique. Sure, Greg had gotten off, but it wasn’t due to any real effort on his part. He’d mostly just let him use his mouth as he needed to and hadn’t really done anything special to facilitate the reaction that he eventually got.

A cunning look came into Greg’s eyes as he pulled off, reaching up with his free hand to stroke him firmly from root to crown, smiling wickedly at the steady flow of pre-come oozing out. He stuck out his tongue and licked it all up, making a show of rolling it around in his mouth. “Such a sweet lad. So sweet I might just have to eat you all up.”

Eggsy stuttered as his back arched again, shaking his head as his cheeks blazed. “D-daddy... I’m s-sorry, Daddy.” Greg tilted his head and raised one eyebrow as he continued to move his finger in and out steadily, nibbling at the base of his boy’s cock and mouthing gently at his bollocks. Eggsy bit his lip and answered the unspoken question. “F-for earlier, on - on the sofa. I weren’t any good at all. Not like you. You’re g-good, so good. I _sucked_.”

Greg let out a startled huff of laughter over the head of his boy’s prick, and Eggsy found himself giggling along at his own unintended joke. “Stop that foolishness, son. I told you that you were amazing, and you were. I don’t lie, remember? I wasn’t expecting you to be a master at the art of sucking cock after nothing but a couple of licks. You took me beautifully and you did everything that I told you to and you were so gorgeous with that lovely mouth of yours that I couldn’t help but take a few liberties and I do apologise for that. Really, I was a bit worked up and I may have lost control a bit. What we did earlier wasn’t a blowjob as much as it was a face-fucking, and that was definitely a bit intense for your first time. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about at all, and perhaps you would allow me to make it up to you, hm?” Eggsy stared down at him, open-mouthed, as Greg smiled broadly. “What do you say, my darling boy? I’m here for your pleasure as much as you’re here for mine, right?”

“Unf.”

Greg chuckled merrily as he reached for the lube and squeezed a bit more out before probing gently with the tips of two fingers. Eggsy moaned and spread his thighs just a bit further, bearing down eagerly as both digits slid in smoothly. Greg stilled his hand, but Eggsy moaned again and started rocking his hips steadily. “Christ, but you are utterly beautiful. Here.” Greg went up on his knees and crouched down low over his groin, idly tugging on his bollocks. “Use me, lad. Take what you need to get off. I want to feel your cock being shoved into my mouth, down my throat. I want my tongue to be coated with your come, want to feel it dripping down my chin. Make a mess out of me, my darling beautiful boy.”

Eggsy’s face blushed utterly scarlet for a moment as Greg sucked just the tip of his prick into his mouth, cradling it gently on his tongue. The younger man let out a strangled noise that may have been ‘Christ’, or ‘shit’, or ‘wait’, or ‘feckin’ hell’, or any number of things, really. But as Greg fought back the urge to grin wildly around the flesh tucked up against his soft palate, gently wiggling the fingers still buried deep, the lad did hold up one finger in a clearly universal gesture. _‘Hold on just a moment, I’m afraid that if I even take in a breath that alone will stimulate me enough to make me bloody well explode, so yes, just a moment if you please so I can learn how to breathe properly again and good Lord I think I may lose consciousness at any moment holy Christ what even are lungs and how do I use them again...’_

Greg winked as Eggsy took in an extremely shallow breath and then another, the blood draining from his cheeks and being redistributed appropriately. Once he seemed to have regained control of his finer motor impulses for the moment, the lad reached down with one hand to caress his Daddy’s cheek. His eyes went wide as Greg hummed, closing his eyes briefly and leaning into his touch. He hummed a little more vigorously as the fingers travelled up into his hair, clutching at the silver strands gently. Biting down hard on his lower lip, Eggsy oh-so-carefully tilted his hips up, his cock sliding neatly and fully into Greg’s mouth.

The older man blinked up at him serenely as Eggsy began to take him up on his offer, soft and slow and tentative at first, beginning to rock a little more forcefully as Greg crooked his fingers deep inside him. He gasped and threw his head back as the tips of Greg’s fingers found and circled his prostate, pressing down firmly. Eggsy’s hand clenched involuntarily harder at Greg’s hair as he moaned and thrashed, wanting to make it last but knowing that it was already all but over. He lifted his head and watched his prick sliding in and out of that lovely, perfect mouth, glancing up at eyes that were impossibly deep and dark, radiating with pure desire and utter joy.

His eyes, dear God, his Daddy’s eyes - they grasped at him and pulled him in and Eggsy felt himself falling, yes, falling hard, but that was okay, because Greg would be there to catch him. No matter what, his Daddy would catch him and hold him tight and chase away the scary monsters in the middle of the night and that was good and that was right, the way it should be. The way that it always should have been and he had waited so long to find him and now that he had he never wanted to let go ever again.

He shook his head blindly as he reached over his head with his free arm, pressing back against the headboard, bracing himself as he bounced his hips with no regard for anything but the swirling of his impending orgasm, his heart nearly full to bursting with the enormity of the gift that had unexpectedly and blessedly fallen into his lap and when he came it almost felt like Greg had simply sucked the soul right out of him. His fingers cramped almost unbearably from where they had tangled in the older man’s gorgeous silver hair and he mumbled out some form of apology as he fought to uncurl his hand and let him go.

Greg shook his head in a mute denial of his garbled apologies, an expression of blissful gratitude stealing over his features as he mouthed gently at the prick that was softening in his hold. He let it slip from his lips and licked at it delicately, a lovely shade pinking his cheeks as he glanced up with a bit of a guilty air. “I’m afraid I got a bit greedy, lad. You’re so sweet that I couldn’t help but drink it all down. We’ll have to save you making a mess out of me a bit later, perhaps.” He hummed low and wiggled his fingers, smiling wickedly as the muscles in Eggsy’s stomach convulsed. “Three. All the way in, too. Told ya I’d find a way to shove ‘em in there.”

Eggsy giggled mindlessly, and as Greg tucked his head down on the hollow of one hip, it suddenly became just a bit too much for him to bear and the giggles transitioned into hiccoughs which quickly devolved to tears running down his face and then he was absolutely mortified to find himself sobbing almost uncontrollably. He barely even felt Greg’s fingers sliding from his body, but he did hear the distinctive snap of latex as the glove was removed and then he was being gathered up in a strong, warm embrace. All kinds of explanations were running through his head, but none of them made sense and it didn’t matter because he couldn’t shove even one of them past his lips anyway.

Greg quietly held him through all of it, not even trying to shush him or calm him prematurely, just waiting out the ugly crying and the desperate hitching of his chest as he strove to get his breath back. He cradled his head to his chest and rocked him gently, stroking his hair and shoulders and down his back, murmuring soothing noises until Eggsy felt his body go limp with pure exhaustion. He gratefully accepted the tissues that he was handed and wiped at his nose viciously, still struggling to find the words he needed to explain. But as he opened his mouth, Greg put a finger to his lips and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Not necessary, lad.”

Eggsy shook his head. “I have to - I-I don’t know why, but I have to say...something.” Greg blinked down at him and tweaked his nose gently, settling down into the pillows a little more comfortably. He looked at him expectantly, but not at all impatiently, clearly willing to give Eggsy the time he needed to gather his thoughts. “I’m not weak.” He sighed as Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “I mean, I’m not a child.” For some reason, Greg’s frown made him chuckle quietly. “I mean, I don’t want to be thought of as a child, as helpless or weak. I mean - well, _shit_.”

“Oh, Eggsy love...” Greg ran his hands over his shoulders, down his arms. He squeezed his biceps and bit his lip before lifting a hand to his face, lightly tracing the contours of his jawline, pinching his chin in thumb and forefinger. “No. No, sweetheart. Nobody could mistake this face, this body, as anything even remotely approaching helpless. This is the body of a man, there’s absolutely no denying that.”

“Men don’t cry.” Eggsy winced even as he said it, hearing Dean's voice in his head, hearing him berate him for not taking his beatings in silence like a real man would.

Greg apparently knew exactly what he was hearing, as the anger that drew his eyebrows down almost frightened Eggsy, but the feel of his arms around him didn’t alter one bit. “That is complete and utter bullshit. We just established that you are a man, and it’s quite obvious that you were crying just a short time ago. Therefore, men do cry. QED and all that.” Eggsy sputtered out a quiet giggle and tucked his face deeper into Greg’s chest. “It’s not weakness to show emotion, lad.” Greg soothed him a bit more, his own heart hammering in his chest uncertainly. “It’s not weakness to admit that you want, or - um - maybe need someone in your life.” Eggsy froze against him suddenly as Greg cleared his throat and continued quietly, almost under his breath. “Love in’t weak.”

“Ngh.” The damn tears nearly started up again, but Eggsy simply planted his lips on Greg’s and kissed him desperately and somehow that was enough to stop the flow before it had even begun. They settled into something a little less frenzied, a bit softer as they caressed each other gently. Greg carefully lifted Eggsy’s hand away as it started to wander downward, twining their fingers together and bringing them up to his chest. Eggsy blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Oh, but you’re - and we... I mean... You should, I could, well...”

Greg smiled at him kindly. “Tomorrow. We will have all day tomorrow and we can take our time and be as hard or as soft as we want to be.” His grin sharpened as he reached down to pinch Eggsy’s bum quite hard. “You will get fucked tomorrow, my sweet. This I promise you.”

_“Asfguh.”_

“Oh, but you say the loveliest things.”

They both broke out into breathless giggles, the sort of laughter that resulted from being so tired that you can barely see straight, never mind actually thinking clearly. Almost as one, they broke apart briefly in order to get under the covers and Greg reached out to turn off the light before they migrated together again. Eggsy marvelled at how right it felt to tuck himself into the warm curve of Greg’s body, how it seemed like his head just slotted perfectly into his shoulder.

Greg hummed sleepily and reached up to caress his face. “Like puzzle pieces, eh, lad?” Eggsy blinked against his skin and trailed his fingers down his sternum silently. Greg sighed happily and squeezed him again. “Whatever happens later, just remember this. I don’t think that you’re helpless or incapable of taking care of yourself. In fact, I know that you are quite capable. But if you would allow it, I would like the privilege of caring for you, of protecting you, of - well, of maybe even loving you. You are a man, Eggsy, and you always will be. But I’d still like you to be my boy, too.”

Eggsy reached up blindly and ran his fingers over Greg’s lips, smiling as he captured them in his own fingers and kissed each one in turn. The younger man let out a long exhalation that seemed to come from somewhere around his toes, and he snuggled in deeper as he closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, Daddy.”

Greg chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Yes, son. Oh yes.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after for Mycroft & Harry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a bit of puppy play, and Mycroft attempting to make good, or at least contemplating it. That's a good start, isn't it?
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies. Would love to hear some words of encouragement...

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Mycroft Holmes was very much _not_ a morning person. Even though he would often stay up into the wee hours to ensure that a mission came to a satisfactory end, and would also get up early in order to achieve the same goal, it was not something that he actively looked forward to. He quite definitely saw the wisdom in the old adage that ‘the early bird gets the worm’, but that did not mean that he had to like it, and Heaven help any poor creature that he ran across if he happened to be at the offices before seven on any given morning.

Given the opportunity, he would much rather laze about in bed until a scandalous nine or maybe even ten a.m. And so upon noting that it was barely even eight o’clock, he met Harry’s rather enthusiastic greeting with a great deal of grumbling, casting a truly terrifying glower in his pup’s general direction. It didn’t seem to faze him in the least, of course, as the entire bed shook vigorously underneath them as he pounced and yipped and wagged his tail. Wait - tail? Mycroft blinked foggily as he dimly registered the fact that the silicone annoyance was no longer in its handy shoe box and was instead firmly in place in between Harry’s arse-cheeks, whipping about with abandon.

Mycroft groaned melodramatically and flopped over onto his belly, cursing vociferously as he landed on the rubber bone that had migrated over to his side of the bed sometime during the night. He dug it out from beneath him and flung it away with dreadful disregard for any of Harry’s personal belongings, coming dangerously close to taking out the lamp sitting on the bedside table. As he grumbled and moaned, he thought he might have heard an amused chuckle from his over-eager assailant, but then, doggies couldn’t laugh, now, could they?

He buried his head under a pillow and did his damnedest to ignore the happy nuisance that was even now burrowing under the covers next to him. But that was quite impossible, especially as Harry began to snuffle around at his feet, of all things. His pup’s nose had once again gone ice-cold, and Mycroft yelped unbecomingly as it touched the instep of his left foot, working its way up until the dastardly beast actually nipped at his heel. The jerk of his leg was quite involuntary, but Harry had obviously been expecting it, as he swiftly sat up, neatly avoiding getting kicked in the face.

The blankets shifted as he did so, and Mycroft grumbled louder as he reached around to yank them back up and down, pulling them up over the pillow that was still shielding his head from the rest of the world. He strove valiantly to get the covers somewhat wrapped around him, hopefully serving as some form of fluffy armour, but of course Harry would not stand for that. He huffed and wriggled, worming his way around until he was straddling Mycroft’s lower legs, and then he proceeded to crawl up his body.

He sniffed at his skin as he did so, licking here and nibbling there, his hot breath tickling at every little hair. He spent an inordinate amount of time around the backs of Mycroft’s knees, huffing out a quiet woof at every twitch of his Master’s body, at every muffled giggle. Obviously pleased with himself to have broken through some of Mycroft’s early-morning grumpiness, Harry once more began to move up his body, running his nose directly up the seam of his closed thighs, bumping his entire face right into the vee where legs met bum. Mycroft writhed against the mattress and shifted, opening and pushing up, wantonly grinding his arse into Harry’s face.

His pup growled low with approval and satisfaction, a heady sound that travelled right up Mycroft’s spine, making his entire body contort underneath the blankets that were still pulled up over his head. Mycroft pushed up again, countering the heady growl with a snarl of his own, a wordless demand that his pup was only too happy to oblige. Opening his mouth wide, Harry delicately scraped his teeth over sensitive flesh, his tongue lolling out and swiping all along the length of his Master’s arse-crack. Mycroft’s back bowed as his arms stretched out over his head, pushing against the headboard, pushing himself further into that hot, eager mouth.

Harry obliged him with another long, wet lick, really digging his nose in deep and squirming and wriggling to get his tongue in there as well. Mycroft let out a soft ‘ah!’ of delight and started shifting, beginning to draw his legs up beneath him. His pup abruptly crawled further up in the bed, up over him, shoving him back down unceremoniously. Mycroft blinked in the darkness underneath the blankets as Harry’s weight settled over his back, as he felt - oh. The red-haired man hummed low as he wriggled against the promising hardness that was even now pressing firmly into the cleft of his arse.

Hot breath washed over his neck as Harry whined quietly, grinding down into him. Oh. Oh, yes. Mycroft shivered delicately and tucked his chin down toward his chest, exposing the back of his neck to his pup. Harry growled and moaned all at once, snuffling into the hair at the back of Mycroft’s head, nipping at the nape of his neck. Delicately at first, oh so gently, but then as he thrust into the valley between his arse-cheeks, his breath shuddered out in a great gust and he bit down harder, snarling viciously. Mycroft moaned as heat prickled through his body, settling down in his nether regions. He certainly enjoyed being fucked from time to time, but that particular act was usually shared only as equals, as men, not as a beast and his master. This - this was something quite different - not something that he willingly offered very often, and most definitely never to anyone but Harry.

Submission.

He swiftly realised that even as eager as he was for it, being held down while still securely tucked up under a blanket and pillow fort would be too much for him to handle, especially at the still relatively tender hour of the morning. Mycroft reached up and behind and tugged at Harry’s hair for a moment, frowning as the tips of his fingers brushed against the soft leather of his collar. Oh, they would have words about that a bit later. Harry was never to put that on himself, that was for his Master to do. Although... It had most likely been a very long time since he had been able to indulge, and perhaps he had just gotten a bit over-excited. Mycroft groaned as Harry whined and thrust again. Oh, oh yes. Maybe he would let his little transgression pass, just this once.

His fingers slipped down around the collar and he tugged on it hard enough to make Harry’s teeth pull away from his flesh with a sharp snap. Mycroft immediately began pushing the bedclothes away, and Harry quickly caught on, sitting up and tossing the blankets aside all willy-nilly. They both blinked at the bright morning light and took in cleansing breaths of fresh air as they were freed from their fabric prison. Harry growled with appreciation and pawed at the body that was lying prone underneath him, tilting his head as Mycroft glanced over his shoulder and started rummaging in the bedside table drawer.

Harry barked joyfully as the small bottle of lube that he kept in there for personal use was pulled out and popped open. Twisting somewhat awkwardly, Mycroft dribbled a generous amount down the cleft of his arse and in between his thighs. Wordlessly, he set the bottle aside and once again stretched himself out, pushing his forehead into the mattress, exposing his neck. He wriggled his arse and pushed up, waiting until Harry’s stiff prick was once again in place before flexing the muscles gently, massaging the member that was sliding along that glorious crevice with ease.

Harry snarled and growled low as he once again sunk his teeth into the base of Mycroft’s neck, holding him fast as he humped him eagerly. There were no words spoken, just incoherent grunts and sighs and moans, all pure heat and animal instinct. Mycroft could feel the bounciness of the tail whipping about, and found himself wondering how it might feel buried deep within him as he fucked his pup. Maybe... Harry shifted in his frantic thrusts and his cock slipped down and between, rutting into the space between Mycroft’s thighs. He clamped down hard with his legs even as his back arched, pushing his neck further into Harry’s mouth.

He growled again and bit down harder, sharp huffs of breath ruffling the hair at the back of Mycroft’s head. He shuddered and moaned, letting out quiet ‘ah ah ah’ noises every time the head of Harry’s prick brushed against his hole, dragging and catching on it oh so briefly. God, it was so delicious, and yet not enough, but that was right, as it should be. Because this was his gift to his lovely doggie, offering himself up to be held down, to be used for the most basic instinct that any beast had.

Not that his pup wouldn’t be offering up his own tribute, oh no. Harry’s whines became something just a little more rhythmic even as the pattern of his fierce thrusting shifted into overdrive. Mycroft found himself tensing the muscles in his legs even harder as Harry’s teeth dug into him painfully, but then his breath stopped utterly as he convulsed atop him. Mycroft moaned lustfully at the feeling of the hot semen that flooded the space between his legs, as Harry continued to move and squirm and thrust, slower and slower, until he released his grip on his neck and simply collapsed on top of him, breathing hard.

Mycroft allowed him a moment before reaching over his shoulder and winding his fingers through sweat-dampened hair. “Such a darling doggie.” His own breath felt constricted from the nearly dead weight that was draped over him, and he heard his voice waver uncertainly. “Now clean Master up like a good boy.” He once again wriggled his arse, frowning to himself as he felt Harry’s cock slip free.

His pup whined low as he pushed himself up, bending down to once more nose at Mycroft’s hair along the back of his head, licking delicately at his abraded flesh as a wordless apology. Mycroft hummed and deliberately relaxed his body, accepting the mute tribute that Harry was offering. He hummed again as the beast atop him began to move downward in the bed, running his nose and tongue down the long line of his spine.

There was a barely audible growl of approval as his pup reached the upturned globes of his arse, no doubt pleased with the visible evidence of his own marking rampage. Mycroft chuckled quietly even as he bucked up against his weight, waiting until Harry had shifted to the side to spread his legs eagerly. There was a quiet woof as he knelt between his calves, leaning forward and simply shoving his nose directly in the crack of his Master’s arse. Mycroft could only plant his face in the mattress as his body seized, letting out a muffled moan as he pushed against the headboard.

Harry didn’t hesitate to put his tongue to use, letting it loll out of his mouth as he panted hot breath over his trembling flesh. He lapped at him with long wet strokes, snarling quietly as he licked up every bit of the mess that he had left behind. He wriggled his face in deep and did not object as Mycroft slowly drew his legs underneath himself, going up on his knees and dipping his spine, exposing his most sensitive area without a hint of shame or embarrassment.

Mycroft moaned low as Harry whined and leant into nose at his dangling bollocks. “That’s it, my sweet doggie. You know just what Master wants, don’t you?” There was a muffled but quite affirmative bark as a wet, hot trail was traced from bollocks to hole, as Harry’s oh-so-clever tongue began to work at him. He growled happily with every warbling cry that was pushed from his Master’s mouth, nipping at the delicate flesh with the greatest care. Mycroft abruptly shifted, shoving his chest down harder into the mattress as he reached behind himself somewhat awkwardly with one hand. He grasped at his own arse-cheek and pulled, exposing himself even further as Harry snarled and laved at his pucker as he wriggled his tongue in as deep as he could.

Mycroft began to subconsciously echo Harry’s low whines as he ground into his face, both of them clearly desperate for more. He finally pulled away with a loud cry and flipped onto his back, instantly reaching out to grab at the leather collar, pulling his pup’s open mouth down onto his florid cock. “Lick.” Harry yipped his assent as his Master growled almost incoherently, stroking him firmly with his tongue from root to crown. Another low growl, and the fingers moved from his collar to his hair, tightening almost painfully as he held him in place and thrust up against his tongue.

Mycroft bucked his hips in short sharp jerks as Harry obediently kept his mouth open and tongue out, letting him just use his face to frot against as he strove for his release. When his Master’s mouth fell open and his head went back, as his beautiful prick jumped and started to spurt, well, Harry just had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent the possibility of being blinded by the hot jets of come. Mycroft continued to move against him even as Harry tried his hardest to contain the flow, his tongue working overtime as he lapped and licked and swallowed. More than a fair amount wound up smeared all over his cheeks and chin, and when his head was finally released, he sat up and pawed at his face with a low whine, wiping as much of it off with the backs of his hands as he could.

Mycroft let out a wheezy sort of chuckle even as his body quivered with the occasional aftershock, his head lolling against the mattress weakly. Harry frowned slightly, but swiftly realised that his Master’s guard was relaxed, and that the belly that he had been trying to hide so assiduously the night before was now spread out before him, utterly exposed. Mycroft seemed to recognise his error a split second before Harry’s triumphant yip echoed through the room, but it was already far too late. His pup descended on him before he was able to curl in on himself, nuzzling into the soft flesh, nipping and licking and growling happily until the body part in question was undeniably jiggling with uncontrollable laughter.  

He grinned up at his Master as he curled up against him, his cheek pressed firmly into the pleasing roundness of his stomach. Mycroft wiped at his face as he came down from his uncharacteristic bout of giggles, smiling back as he reached down to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently. His pup blinked up at him through content brown eyes as he shifted slightly, rolling just enough to expose his own belly.

Mycroft snorted out a quiet burst of laughter through his nose as he reached down with his free hand, tickling at the dark treasure trail before running his palm in firm circles just above his pubic bone. Harry sighed happily as Mycroft grinned again. “Did you miss my belly rubs that much, my dear?” Harry yipped as he turned his face deeper into his flesh, his eyes flashing with something both coy and melancholy. “Poor sweet doggie...” Mycroft bit his lip as Harry snuffled into his skin. “I guess I’ll just have to make up for it by giving you as many rubs as you need from now on. How does that sound, hm?”

Harry once more pressed his face into the soft flesh of his stomach, nuzzling at him much more gently this time, rubbing his cheek against him in a vague nodding motion. They laid like that for long moments, with Mycroft rubbing and scratching, with Harry settling in and blinking up at him lazily. Of course, the body part that was being repurposed as a pillow decided to speak up after a while. As delicious as Mycroft’s ‘meal’ had been the night before, it had not exactly been filling, and his stomach was not entirely happy with that fact. It growled loudly, startling Harry out of his light doze, causing him to lift his head and growl back in a fit of pique. He glared quite ineffectually as it grumbled again, and turned his outraged expression on his Master as he started to giggle quietly.

Mycroft tugged gently at the collar, encouraging Harry to his hands and knees, pulling him up over his prone form. “I’m going to have to ask you to rejoin the land of man, my dear. It’s much easier to make breakfast and feed each other with two fully functional sets of hands, wouldn’t you agree?” Harry huffed, but didn’t object as Mycroft started to tug the buckle of the collar loose. He blinked rapidly and crossed his eyes as his nose was tapped at lightly. “Naughty puppy. That’s for putting it on yourself. Next time you wait for me, you understand?”

Harry bit his lip and tried to look contrite as he yipped quietly, settling down on top of his Master with his chin on his sternum. He looked up at him from underneath his lashes with such devotion that Mycroft felt his chest constricting. “Apology accepted. Come here, love.” Harry hummed as Mycroft pulled him into a deep kiss, rolling their bodies so that they were laid out on their sides, pressed together tightly. Mycroft waited until Harry relaxed into him, the liberal application of his tongue slowly being withdrawn in favour of lips. He ran his hands down the line of his spine and arched his back until Harry returned the gesture, using his fingertips to trace gentle circles just above his tailbone.

In that manner, Harry was brought back up from his little fugue state, with Mycroft wordlessly encouraging him to kiss instead of lick, to touch rather than nuzzle. He let out a soft sigh of relief and contentment as first his forehead was kissed, and then either cheek. Mycroft pinched his bum and grinned at the sharp squawk that it elicited as he licked his lips. “Mm. Your skin is a bit saltier than usual, my dear.”

Harry grinned crookedly and cleared his throat as he prepared to speak. “I simply can’t imagine why...”

Mycroft lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he appeared to contemplate. “It’s just a theory, but I believe it may have something to do with the manner in which you brought me to orgasm.”

“You mean...with my _face_.” They broke out into giggles, laughing until they were both rather breathless and pink about the cheeks. Harry recovered first, reaching up to run his fingers through Mycroft’s soft red hair. “God, but I’ve missed you.”

Mycroft felt his chest constricting again as he looked into that lovely face, his expression so open and honest that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He thought of all the ways he could attempt to apologise for his egregious behaviour, but he knew that none of it could possibly suffice. What could one say to mend a broken heart? He knew that he had devastated his lover all those long years ago, had not just broken him, no - he had shattered him. Mycroft knew this because he had done the same to himself. He had not the skill, nor knew of any magic to right all the wrongs that he had done. All that he had was himself. But he didn’t know how to offer...well no - of course he knew. You just offered, didn’t you? You simply had to place yourself in your lover’s hands and say, ‘here I am’. What he didn’t want to risk was the possible rejection. So rather than saying what he knew should be said, he simply buried his face in Harry’s neck and mumbled, “I’ve missed you too.”

Harry’s warm chuckle was more than he deserved, and it made him feel all the more wretched. “I know, love. My love, my infuriating bastard. My slimy little serpent.” Mycroft blinked rapidly against the warm skin of his lover’s throat, clutching him tight. He groaned aloud as his stomach rumbled fiercely once more, acutely embarrassed by his own bodily functions. But Harry merely laughed quietly as he pushed him away gently. “I think a quick shower might be in order first, yes?”

Mycroft sighed and reluctantly allowed Harry to shove him off the bed, regaining his feet with a little groan as he stretched, his muscles protesting rather soundly. Harry blinked at him with a goofy half-grin on his face before taking note of Mycroft’s furious blush and doing him the tremendous favour of looking away. He cleared his throat and dug around in the mess of bedclothes, finally emerging from the fluffy cloud with the green and blue tartan dressing gown firmly in his grip. Holding his head up high, Harry preceded Mycroft out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, getting the shower started up without delay.

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, m'dear!
> 
> I do have a tumblr, if anyone is interested. Not much there, as I don't usually post teasers, but I do drop notifications for when the ao3 system seems a bit slow. If you'd like, you can check me out at 'bitemebat'.


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